People keep asking me, "What's different about the West coast?" in relation to the East coast, that is. I say things like, "People are so much friendlier here! And it's beautiful; more various terrains. And NO HUMIDITY! But also no lightening bugs." I go on about the physical differences forever. There are more breathtaking sights here. The air is fresher. Country untouched by smoke and oil or grease is not out of reach. Land raped by steam and metal and brick is within. Whichever's more your thing.

But I only say that one line about the people. Because I can't figure out what the difference is. But I think I just did.

People from the Northeast coast of the United States (from Washington DC up to Boston, I think) are like a puzzle that wants to be solved. They want you to slowly fit the pieces together, going over each one carefully before finding where it belongs in the picture. They think it's important that you do this to see how everything is connected, and that it all has its place. They live by the fact that the human being, at very least the brain and therefor life, is a very complex thing, and that is a positive to them. They want to be complex, so that if one thing fails, there is something else to occupy them and hold them together until time heals the wound; something else to keep them sane and happy. And if anyone can actually put the whole puzzle together, which is both a challenge and an honor, and see it for what it is, what it wants to be and what it stands for the way they want you to see it; and you find that you love it through this clear and extremely vulnerable view - you will then find happy and permanent admittance to their lives.

People from the West coast are like a painting on display in a museum. They were made to be looked at, and what you see is what you get. There are no layers to peel off nor a rope to keep people at a distance, just a frame worn via a smile on a face. Everyone is welcome, and the more people crowding the hallways of their lives, the happier they are. You can come and go as you please, stay as long as you want, and people are hardly removed by the security guard. They live under the pretext that life is beautiful and should not be hidden away but rather shared with anyone who wants to share it. And should the painting fall from the wall, there are always people there to catch it and promptly put it back where it belongs.

There is no "getting to know you" period here. If there is, it's significantly shorter than it is back at home. This is not a problem when it comes to friendships; on the contrary, it's actually been a relief and a blessing to make friends so quickly when I've moved to a place where I know no one. However, when it comes to dating, I have repeatedly found myself slowly backing away and then once I'm out of arm's length, turning and running for the door as fast as I can away from what I suppose I perceive as a threat to my guarded soul.

It really is a cultural difference. I know my behavior probably seems bizarre. I just don't like it when my pieces get hastily shoved together. I can feel them starting to bend and splinter when that happens. All my pieces aren't here, anyway. Some of them have been stolen to be inspected for fitting in other puzzles. I feel very far away from fitting in that picture; far from a safe haven. I want to run there, too, but I'm afraid I'll be out of breath by the time I get there, or I'll collapse on the way. So I'm walking until I get tired. I hope the pieces fit the way they're trying to. I hope I make it.