"Little Boxes"

christina
Jun 29, 2018
5 min read

Little boxes

My imagination loves putting people in little boxes

I can categorize you by astrological sign, Myers Briggs personality type, or life path number if you like.

You can be put in many boxes, don’t get me wrong, but the boxes still exist.

They are methodically organized and labeled and relabeled and dumped out once I decide the box was too limiting.

Today you are both in and out of the country box. You have toes dipping in the Taurus box, down to earth, and physical. You have a hand in the country box that collect the salty sunflower seed shells spit quickly from your mouth. But, the boxes are constantly dumping out and reorganizing as you self define. You store your pencils and your other hand in the writer box, playing with poetry and trying different forms on like hats. You reject the hick box that many from your hometown fit snugly inside. You like tearing the duct tape off of your boxes, playfully deciding who you are and not letting the boxes decide for you.

Today you are in and out of the Midwest box. You are acutely aware of the extension of your vowels and the roundness they force your mouth into. You know your cheeses. One hand is in the avid fisher box and the other is holding on to the smoked Gouda connoisseur box. Half of you at least is giggling in the comedian box, a box that you don’t think you measure up to. The Virgo box shows off your magic and realness and shyness at loving advances.

My imagination loves putting you in boxes but you haven’t shown me enough to completely organize your parts.

You are in the brazen Leo box, but somehow you can’t keep eye contact, preferring to close them when you talk. You like to linger the longest in the shy box, something I think you are painfully aware of. But I think your heart and brain belong in the creator box, full of movie scripts written on old receipts, song lyrics scribbled on the walls reverberating with beats you endlessly create. You are frustrated like most of us with your placement in the hopeful romantic box.

You like hanging in the athlete box, trying and succeeding at every sport. But at night you sometimes hang your cleats up in the insecurities box, worrying about races lost or wrong words spoken. The Libra box allows you to be diplomatic and gives you an eye into what others are motivated by. I think your favorite is the scientist box, filled with measuring tools, notebooks, and endless fascinations. You will never quench your thirst for knowledge. The box containing your heart is the one you try to hide, the nurturer box. You tuck it away behind curtains of confidence, but the kindness, snuggles, and selfless concern for others peak out from behind the scenes fairly often you softy you.

You live a good portion of your life in the god box, it protects you and reassures you. But the god box has millions of channels of connections, it traverses oceans and continents. These channels become a box of their own, you are living in the limitless box of the traveler. Because you are young, you like to hop between boxes, unsure which ones fit you and which ones do not. This creates an endless energy inside of you, the boundless Sagittarius inside shining bright. Your playful energy will always be forming the giggly goofy box full of melodic laughter.

My imagination loves putting you in boxes, but you like to evade my scrutiny like a cat ducking under a hand ready for scratching your ears. You are in the hawk box, with eyes wide and a pair of binoculars on, you identify and categorize birds and humans alike, creating your own boxes. You are kind and grounded, caring for others in a way that isn’t intrusive. You are in the friend box. Inside your friend box is the nerd box, covered in manga posters, Star Wars collectors items, and the latest Mario game unwrapped and ready.

You identify as the runner, but always towards something more beautiful and not away from something scary. You are also allusive to many, picking and choosing which boxes to share with others. Your boxes are red on the outside, your favorite color, a piece you chose to share. You spend quite a long time in the trickster box, smiling with your eyes that goes mostly unnoticed, and approaching life with an unattached playfulness. In your inner layers you have carefully constructed contraptions to hold all of your boxes, the engineer box encompassing it all. You inhabit the wisdom box, with your calm and laid back attitude, knowing to trust the universe and expect very little on any given day, making any pleasure you encounter, great.

My mind loves categorizing you but you encompass thousands of boxes all at once. The ever exploring Aquarius ready to challenge the norms and screaming for your love of risk at the top of your lungs. You inhabit the easygoing box most readily, the lid is open and you breeze in and out at will. The leader and sheepdog box suits you well, ever the belayer, hoisting us higher to become better versions of ourselves, a reciprocal process that lifts you too. The chef box is a constant for you, cabinets upon cabinets full of fancy salts and curries, you are the spice queen, bringing excitement and good taste to all that you encounter.

You occupy the boxes that linger in still soft pools. You’re the owner of the most patient box, your powers of observation open up the perception box which is always open for business, translating body language like a foreign language, always ready to listen. You co-inhabit the easygoing box, a box that has tough walls allowing you to overcome situations of adversity with grace and poise, diffusing tension and bringing peace. You unintentionally or not thrive in the teacher box, everyone you encounter that is lucky enough to be your pupil will soak up your wisdom and be better for it. You exist in the comedian box, doling out sass and carefully constructed advice with ease.

My imagination loves putting people in little boxes

I can categorize you by astrological sign, Myers Briggs personality type, or life path number if you like.

You can be put in many boxes, don’t get me wrong, but the boxes still exist.

They are methodically organized and always a work in progress as you peel back your layers to me, revealing boxes of your own.