Outside the Box
I am learning that I am not meant to be boxed. Not mentally, not physically, not spiritually. A box is too small for who I am becoming. It asks me to discover myself inside its four brown corners, to breathe through its tape, to confuse its boundaries for my being. But I am not the box. The box is something I once called home — a friend who taught me what suffocation feels like, who showed me the price of safety. And now, I meet it eye to eye and say, thank you, but I do not belong with you. My very breath rebukes you. My very light makes you transparent. You no longer define me. I exist beyond edges. I am the breath outside the box. I am what cannot be taped in.