Box and thought and box

Hi, 

I might be trapped in a box.

The box is actually a thought. The thought is a box.

The thought of becoming someone better, the thought of growing up and leaving home, the thought of drinking coffee everyday- even though it feels like sand against your throat. Stay operational through this week, just this week and no more.

Adulthood was once a thought, now it is as real as a box. A box where your shirts are expected to be creaseless and hair untangled.

How can you just “know” things? This is the first time you’ve ever been this old. Yet, you are also this young only once.

The person who you wake up as tomorrow is as much of a stranger as the man sitting next to you on the bus.

I act and suddenly I wonder, “Where is the girl that I was last year? Two years ago? What would she think of me now?”

(Exhale now)

Can you be tired of tiredness?

Sincerely, with growing pains

The Box, 

box, 

box.