The Pieces of My Life
I believe in Legos. I set my life to the tune of simplicity and childlike cares because in the end, I am a child. I build, destroy, pick up the pieces, and grow, and I will never be useless.
My tallest Lego tower was almost as tall as I was. The joy I found in building this configuration was not in its height or strength, but in how quickly I could rip it down. I had a desire to destroy something as large as myself. The seven seconds I spent thrashing and kicking were all I had left of the tower.
Once the tower had turned to nothing but rubble I did the one thing I was taught to do: pick up the pieces. It took much more time than it was worth. These stupid seven seconds were all I had to show for a morning of work. In my life I’ve had to pick up the pieces many times. Sometimes the cleaning up is harder than the original building. The messes have never stopped me from playing again.
Before the Legos were picked up, they were scattered and in pieces on the floor. After my older sister, Helen, died it was me torn apart on the floor. Although Helen had been weak for a long time, she was and always will be the strongest person I have ever known. Her sickness had been raging for years but her death was very unexpected. If someone else picked me up, I wouldn’t have learned. The hardest cleaning up I’ve ever experienced was getting myself back on my feet.
As I lay on the floor, I convinced myself that I was useless. My meaning in life had left me, and I was alone. Although my family and friends were there, convincing myself I deserved them was difficult.
People have never given up on me or thrown me away. When Lego’s lay smashed, you reuse them and keep growing. The destruction has the possibility of creating a new masterpiece. With my moments of weakness, I’ve learned true strength. For this I thank my sister for giving me reason to believe.
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