Boxed in

Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a box? Do you ever feel like the people around you expect you to behave a certain way – to like this and not that, to go here and not there, to hold this belief and not that? I suppose we are, for the most part, predictable humans with the notable exception of a few – namely my mother who is predictably unpredictable.

But, do you ever feel like you want to do things that are unpredictable for your nature? Do you ever feel like if you did the things you wanted to do, people might just feel like they don’t know you anymore? I’m for sure in a box. I presume my box has an open top. I see that I could possibly get out, the top is certainly open, but there is the matter of climbing out. It seems just out of reach.

I am aware that I made this box, climbed in voluntarily, and quite frankly have been comfortable in its cozy corners. It’s inconspicuous, and I like that. I don’t necessarily want to destroy it. Maybe I can make a door or window so I can come and go as I please. Inside my box, I feel safe and complete and calm and contented – though perhaps a bit frustrated at the limited room that is there, the limited activity that occurs. Outside of my box, apprehension and trepidation lurk. There are too many choices to make, too much activity to engage in.

All I want to do is go dancing. It’s not like I’m trying to change myself to the core. But everyone knows that I don’t go dancing – at least not in the continental U.S., or at least only near international waters. And really, I don’t know that anyone I know wants to go dancing. But maybe I have put people in boxes as well. Or perhaps people are just respecting the boundaries of the box that I have built for myself. Or maybe, it’s just who has time to go dancing anymore?

“Check your pulse it’s proof that you’re not listening to
The call your life’s been issuing you
The rhythm of a line of idle days” – John Mayer