The Box (#2)

Read #1 First!

The walls surround me. Here, I am by myself, I am alone in my own head. I am in the world, but not of it. I’m not aware of my surroundings, but can never escape from them. Here, nothing touches me. Here, everything touches me.

I run across the room in a frantic rush. I hit one of the walls, rebound and sprint toward another wall with no thought but speed. Nothing can stop me and nothing tries. My heart pumps and my pulse races to match my legs. My frenzied running leads across the entire room as I throw myself around this box. I catch a glimpse of green and my back aches from the tree its up against. I adjust, and move a little to ease the little pain. My thoughts slip through my fingers as if they had been oiled and greased. I run.

I stop. I breathe. My heart tries to slow down. My breathing is still coming in short bursts and I am having trouble focusing. Again, I adjust so my back will stop hurting. I slowly stumble to the center on my box, not really noticing the walls but always knowing they are there. I stop and look towards the middle. Fear slowly fills me, infiltrates my lungs, speeds up my heart. Why have I stopped!? I can’t ever stop!

I’m off again! I sprint 5 steps to the left, 5 back to the right. I pause for a split second, then dash forwards and to the right. Wait, sprint, wait, sprint. I pray that nothing can stop me, but my fear promises me that it will, that I can never escape. I run faster, even more frantically. I can’t think from the fear. I can’t stop from the fear.

But I stop again. My eyes dart from trees to grass to flowers, unseeing. I try to think, try to clear my mind. My hands rest against one of the walls as I shake my head. I try not to think, knowing it will only bring the fear back in strength. I feebly try to force my way out my box, but know that it is useless. I stand there as if in shock, leaning against the wall. Sweat drips down my face, off the tip of my nose and the edges of my glasses.

A splash of color slowly floats past my vision and I slowly bring my blurred eyes towards the center again. I sprint at one of the walls and fling myself against it, pounding against it. I realize it isn’t sweat dripping from my glasses, but my own tears. They fill my eyes, clouding my vision as I look at the park through my sunglasses. It’s so bright out today, even in the shade. The butterfly that just floated by my face lands on my knee as I continue to punch the wall, desperate for release. But there is no weakness here, only the impossibly strong walls of my own desperation and fear.

The butterfly still rests on my knee, slowly raising and lowering its wings. I adjust my glasses, hoping no one nearby can see my tears. My mind is aware of my true surroundings, telling me there is no box, no cursed walls, but I feel the walls close in, ever tighter. I absent-mindedly brush away the magnificent colors on my knee and try to think of a way to get out of the room. My body sits in the park, only plants and grass and small animals surround me. My mind rushes from corner to corner, unable to break free of its own confines. I struggle to escape from the walls of my own brain, even as I sit in peaceful solitude.

But I can’t. The beauty and calm of the park around me have no effect. The peace of the world around me can never change the fear and anger that war within me. I just can’t escape, no matter how fast I go, no matter how hard I hit. I hate this. I hate this room, I hate these walls more than anything.