The Girl in The Box

For as long as I can remember, I have had a little girl in a wooden box in the back of my head. The box was never quite big enough for her, she always had to be stoop over. And, for most of my life, she would pound her fist on the walls and scream at the top of her lungs 24 hours a day.
I have run very far to get away from myself, but everywhere I go, there I am, and here I am, at the end of the day, and the end of the road, and the end of my rope.
So I go into my mind, and open the lid of the box and ask the little girl, “if I bring you some milk and cookies will you stop crying?”
“maybe” says she.
“what do you want?” says I.
“the same thing you do.”
“I don’t know what I want”
When you have everything to gain, and everything to lose, when you don’t even know what that might entail in either direction. Enie, Meanei, Minie, Moe, doesn’t work like it used to. Why not, becomes just why.
“you’re not answering the question” says my little girl. “climb in here and scream with me”
I climb into the box, but instead of pounding fists, I only have streaming tears.
I’ve always said that I was fearless, or that my only fears were morbid obesity and spontaneous combustion. Roosevelt said we should only fear fear.
To not be afraid of the dark around me, I have to first not be afraid of the darkness in my mind. And to the depths it can go. I look around my box, laying there, in my dark thoughts. And I say to my little girl “I’ll try to get us out of this.”

Ed and I picked up this piece, Cubicle, from a good friend of ours, Hunter King, (hunterking.com), before our financial meltdown, and what a great piece for our collection! Now it makes an even more poignant statement, in relation to our current living situation and current state of mind. I wanted to share the thought, and perhaps ask what traps you?