Boxed in

They stuck me in a box, closed the lid, flipped it upside and down and sat on it. I kicked and screamed but to no avail. Big brothers don’t care much when their kid sister cries unless she’s bleeding or Moms within hearing distance.

While I initially kicked and screamed at this treatment, I soon learned that the trick was to pretend that it didn’t bother me. I’d sit in my prison quietly. While I was suffocating inside I would pretend their torture didn’t bother me.

There are some days where my uncertain future makes me want to kick and scream. Some days I do; I rebel. Most days I don’t. I silently suffocate inside. I ignore it though; I try to trick it away.

I find distractions and sometimes . . .oftentimes they’re not good distractions. Sometimes I bang on the piano, I stick my blades on and skate till I can’t breathe, I spend long hours at the office studying and some times I distract myself with men.

I acknowledge that my life is missing many essential qualities, I admit that my future becomes more mysterious each day and each day I change. I fight the box I’ve been placed in. I fight the confines that I and others have placed around me.

Next time someone sticks me in a box I’ll bring a knife.