In the present day of digital media landscapes, there is much talk of the ability to shape one’s own narrative. In the year of our lord, 2024, we have been cursed with ubiquitous perception through all and every medium. Add your life to instagram – plug your website, buildabitch.com. I would like to believe that I do not subscribe to this methodology of presentation of self. My skin is clear – look through me and see what I am inside; a pair of capable hands, growing from my core. 

I exist in a state of filterless transparency. I lay 52 cards face up on the table and let the player decide the value of the pot. Hedge your bets at your leisure, the dealer is always in. I needn’t keep secrets, for there are two cards hidden from even mine own self. Without face, and in two colors, these are my favorites in the deck. Wild in nature, I never know when these two cards, the joker – the fool, shall deal themselves in, oftentimes resulting in making myself laugh. There is such hilarity in the absurdity of not knowing what is coming out of my mouth until all is said and done. Aside from these wild cards, my two capable hands offer anyone in my path the full deck that I am playing with, and the order is plain to see. My only rule is that the precious act of shuffling these cards is a game that is only to be played by me. 

I do not expect a full deck from any one individual I encounter. I delight in seeing the order of the first few cards that are presented, leaving me to decide what game we are playing. Can I interest you in a round of Crazy Eights? Or perhaps you have chosen to play War. The game itself holds less weight than the inherent nature. Play is simply one big guise for the presentation of narrative, the picture of you, the puzzle that I have the luxury of assembling in my free time. Shall we begin the game? No begging required, the house will always buy you in. If two’s for you, then one’s for me. Have your eyes rolled back into your head with the reading of all of these ridiculous metaphors, or can you still see my pair of capable hands? Would you like me to hold yours? Where would you like to go?

I shall hold your hand through your worries, and when they pass I shall hold your hand in glee. Giddy and gay, we can skip side by side through the streets. Let your pieces fall apart. I love German folklore. You may them drop behind you in the fashion of Hansel and Gretel. I will pick them up one by one – gaining insight of your inner workings as I see the path of your past. I can carry your pieces until you are ready to take them back. I enjoy the time I get to spend with the little parts of you, but the greatest pleasure arrives when the pieces have been sorted accordingly, buffed and polished, returned and whole, we can once again hold hands. With free arms we can dance and laugh until our pieces fall off together. The game is 54 card pickup. Don’t concern yourself with the mess, I love to clean.

I can handle myself, silently, while I hold your hand. I will hold your pieces with not a single expectation in return. Multitasking is a single player sport, and I like to win. I challenge myself: how fast can I collect my pieces? how many of yours can I carry? how many puzzles can I build at once? Would you like to put me to the test? I dare you to drop them. My hands work fast. I exercise my social skills seeking more puzzles. My arms are becoming quite strong. 

I smile when I see the array of puzzles before me varying in shapes and sizes, their colors and contrasts, some 3D and interactive jigsaws. I fill my time assisting others in confronting their perplexities, but beneath this activity lies a deeper wish, something that I seek. I purse an 𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑔𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒. An unsolvable and mystifying entity, with pieces I cannot hold as they are scattered and hidden in tight spaces that will never see a glimmer of moonlight nor a ray of the sun. I shall offer up my capable hands, only to have them gently folded over and placed in my lap. 

I understand that these capable hands have grown from my core as a defense. I do not wish to deconstruct this mechanism, for this is my perpetual tool of becoming indispensable, and my preferred method of engagement in the world. My two hands are capable of fulfilling my every wish and desire, achieving any goal I set. I will hold your pieces for no charge, but yet a tax remains. Would you like to find comfort in my capable hands? Do you enjoy feeling lighter? You can depend on me forever, but you must always keep me around.