Boxed In.

Your entire life can be summed up in one word.
Your life circles around boxes.
You get up from your bed, which is in a shape of a box.
You do your morning routine of washing up and taking a shower in a room that’s a shape of a box.
After that you walk downstairs, open your box fridge, find something to cook on top of your box stove.
Or possibly a quick meal like cereal, which comes from boxes.
Then after breakfast, you head out your box-shaped door, and sit in a car.
Which is basically a box with wheels.
Or maybe you commute, but that’s still a box with wheels.
You pay fare and drop your coins in a box.
You arrive at the station and hope to find a seat in the moving box train called a subway.
You get off, and walk or take the streetcar to your work place.
By the way, the streetcar is still a box.
Then you get to work, and take an elevator.
Which is a box.
Then when you get off your floor, you sit inside a cubicle. Which is still a box.
You sit in front of a box screen, pressing little boxes on your keyboard that makes letters magically appear in the screen before you.
Then, after a long day’s work, you leave.
Take that same elevator back down.
Take the subway back home.
Ride your box with wheels to your garage.
Open your door.
And your home.
You’ll probably spend three hours on your own personal box computer, doing your little hobbies.
Or maybe do some rest and relaxation watching television.
That is in the form of a what?
Yes, box.
Good, you’re catching on.
Then after all is done, you wash up in your box washroom.
Lie down on your box shaped bed.
Only to wake up to the same routine, the same boxed life the next day.
Now, I restate my first statement.
Your life circles around boxes.