i have a mental image of myself bouncing and flailing in a cardboard box. the box was a perfect cube, but it has become beaten with age...there are creases especially along the side walls, and all of the corners are crushed in an accordion fashion. the corrugated cardboard of which the box is made has become limper than it should be to make the box at all useful, and yet it still contains me. i still can't decide whether i'm still in the box because i'm not strong enough to break this flimsy cardboard, or if i'm still in the box because i don't want badly enough to break out, since i'm still fairly comfortable in the box despite my flailing and bouncing, and there is some light of unknown origin inside the box. maybe i just haven't gotten everything i can out of the box, and then when i do, i will have beaten the box so thoroughly that it will have no choice but to let me out.
one day, i will outgrow this box.