The Unboxing

I came here already in a box.

Came here in a different box, full of water supposed to give me life.

Came here with memories boxed because they feel worthy, sound worthy, never too much to carry, nboxever too much to hold, never too much to bear.

Oh dear child, why are you ignoring your identity?

Why hide from the intensity within?

Feel your own fire. Accept it. Love it.

Don’t run away.

Maybe hold it a bit longer.

Maybe you won’t burn.

Maybe if you hold it closer to your chest, it won’t burn through you.

Maybe if you lift it up, you’ll have the strength to carry yourself, to make space for yourself.

This box I’ve been secretly building has come back to suffocate me.

And I wonder why I’m lost for breath.

My own limiting beliefs, limiting identity, limiting self-talk, limiting self-image—

conditioned or not—have soothed me for far too long.

It’s time to catch a breath of my own fresh air.

There are only so many distractions I can hide behind, so many moments I can reside in and revisit with every lyric, every step, every heartbeat.

There are only so many conversations to be had

until I need to have one with myself

until I need to unlock the box,

until I need to see myself in the mirror,

unlocking myself inside the box,

to stop, breathe, allow, and finally shed.

Shed all the parts of me I wanted myself to believe I am

because I had to downplay myself.

Shed all the pieces I forced into my puzzle

because it made me less threatening, more comfortable, palatable.

You don’t need to be something you’re not

something you’ve never been.