My Life Is In a Box

My life is in a box, an intermediary moment from here to there, from there to here or from there to where. For several years, I lived as a bit of a gypsy. Things were overrated. We only needed what we needed, and the rest was dead weight.

I don’t live that way anymore. I don’t know those people anymore. Their faces seem a little less familiar everytime I log on Facebook….

It is a pause. Life on pause. For a moment. Take a breath. In the moment, I am scrambling to rebuild, and slowly, like Legos. l If you look at the right angle, you can see what I am shaping. But, right now, it all just looks like stacks here, there…an arch on this side, and a wall here…one day it will be a great city….

Things. Things. I have an obsession with things. New things. Pretty things. Shiny glass things….I am constantly buying new things, as if buying them will make the rebuilding faster. Because I have new things, I must have moved on…


But relics of my past life sit in a box, waiting. Waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for change. Waiting for permanence. Waiting for the moment when I can unpack them. My life is in a box.




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