"Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"You know you."

"I thought he was with you."

"No, he's not."

"Maybe he's in the box."

"I'd know if he was."

There's rumbling coming from the box. The very big box which is used for sending bundles of clothes and goods back home to the family.

"He's in the box."

This story is not exactly true. It isn't meant to be. But it is believable.

This story brings back memories of a time when I once lived in a box. So much so, that I will diverge from the story of the boy in the box.

Therefore, this is the story of a young man in a box.

A young man has lots of pressures to face. He is still young. There are many expectations put upon him. The young man can sometimes be caught between those pressures and what he believes to be right. A whirlwind of emotions. Highs and lows. It can be somewhat scary.

For the young man, the box is not a physical item. It is not like being stuck with a bundle of clothes. Living in a box is a state of mind.

Not everything in life has gone as planned and I had been looking for answers in the wrong places. I was looking for the highs in the sky for the answers. Instead of keeping my feet on the ground. One foot would have been a good start.

I'm not sure I want to think about the past anymore. Thankfully, my life has moved on.

Let's go back to the lighter story about the boy in the box.

"Hi Daddy. I was stuck in the box. I don't want to be stuck in a box."

"I don't want you to either," I replied.

A freewrite exercise with prompts delivered by @mariannewest

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