in a box

Some days I just feel so lost. And useless. And without a purpose.

The box is such a perfect metaphor for where things are right now. I feel like I am in a box that has a label on the outside, but I can't see it. I have no idea of my final destination. I am in the hands of the US postal service, and that just can't be good.

I feel trapped and yet the box is familiar and so it gives me a false sense of safety. I can hide in the box. I can close myself off from the rest of the world.

Really though I want out of the box. It isn't as comfortable as it might seem. It keeps me from interacting with the world.

Some days I manage to put my hands out. I reach out and feel the world around me. It is good to know what is out there. I am hoping another hand reaches out and holds mine. I try not to feel badly when that doesn't happen.

On better days I poke my head out and take in as much as I can with my eyes. It isn't so bad. I take a deep breath and enjoy the stillness.

One day (soon) I hope to step out. To explore the world where I have found myself. To interact with the place I am at that moment.

Ultimately I will give up the box. Realize that I don't need it. That it isn't a protector, but rather an excluder. It interferes. It prevents. It smothers.



currently reading :: Water for Elephants