I wrote this out several days ago, then hastily posted it here to get feedback without actually taking the time to make it look nice.

People complained. Rightfully so.

This is some artsy-fartsy piece of creative writing; a type of catharsis to deal with and get rid of unwanted thoughts. So, if you want to read it, please do; but please comment.

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what happened to the box

The box.
    It's round on the inside; despite it's corners, you walk around in circles within.vYou are not alone, the box is it's own entity.  What's beyond the box can only be guessed at.

    Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's more of the same. Maybe it's whatever texture or colour that crosses your mind, moving in psychedelic ways that only insanity can get at.

You.
And the box.
And you are inside the box.

    You get pretty bored with the box eventually, so you focus more upon it. This is an involuntairy action; you‘re mind pre-eminently focuses on what you don‘t want to think about, then you obviously think about it as the topic you wish to ban from your mind. The box becomes pre-eminent, and you make guesses at what exists beyond the box. You never see what's beyond the box; to that you are blind. But you focus so intently on the box, rationalizing any perceived bumps and textures.

    Eventually you create your own understandings and conventions; no matter how basic or complex, all involving perception of the box. You ignore the fact that you're in a box, and that all you know is the box, and that anything beyond the box is pure speculation. You're going mad in the box trying to do something that is very human; making sense of the situation you're in.

    Conventions dictate what happens to the box; perceptions dictate what happens to the box. You're feeling out the world with an ESP beyond everything you use to define the edges of the box. There is no confirmation as to what you believe to be outside the box; you can't see outside the box. You can't confirm your suspicions or theories; there is only the box. Yet you're feeling out the outsides of the box from within, and you need to extend certain conventions from within the box to make sense of the outside, even with no indications of what is on the outside. Gravity, the colour range within the box, the way you feel. It's all externalized beyond the box; there is something outside that box that feels the same as you, that knows the same colours as you. The consciousness and cognisance you feel must be duplicated somehow outside of this place; nothing is exclusively unique in it’s own right, …right?

    Any external diversity becomes acceptable deviation; and why not? You don't perceive yourself exactly as you look, so why would you perceive anything else accurately. You're stuck in a box, and you're going mad... that's bound to affect your perception anyways. Eventually there is an absolute existence beyond the box; there must be, life in the box as a singular entity within the vastness of space seems unlikely. If that's all there is, you'd possibly react irrationally, you'd try to tear apart the box despite if holding your entity within for good or ill. There must be space beyond the box; you can imagine the quarters and eighths of space between the walls and yourself. If one is true, the other must be true.

    If existence is confined to the inside of the box, doesn't that imply that existence is free outside of the box? Perhaps, but if you consider the inverse of things, it could simply mean that because there is limited existence within, there is unlimited non-existence outside. Who knows; it doesn‘t really matter. You are desperately inside the confines of something you want to see beyond; you pray to see beyond. Each concept that creates friction is the more interesting truth; nobody wants to face the possibility of a frictionless universe within a limited box. You can create friction within the box, of course; just rub yourself up against the sides. But this is a physical friction; we're talking about perception, and existence, and ESP. We're talking about intangible existence, and the friction derived from the desire for it to be possible. Truth need not apply; we've created our own conventions and need to abide by them for the sake of personal rationality. We will hold onto those conventions long after they've dried out and mummified into terrible monsters over whom it is unfashionable to speak. Free though isn't established though; we are going to think of our past experience within the box before we give way to the irrationality over rethinking the whole damned paradigm.

    At least that's an option.  If more than one person is within that box, there‘s another option; an option which, for better or ill, involves the inevitable problem of two and two making an inexorable five. But there's always one way or another, so as such there is the association, a very human thing, to segregate the two as one being righteous and right, the other being irresponsible and wrong. Perception becomes a larger parasite, starts feeding on the insides of the box. The more, the merrier; the fatter perception gets. Nobody has noticed the growth, or even the presence of the various demons within the box since the beginning. Now we have perception feeding off our eyes like a leech in a pond, we have imagination with quills reaching into every direction, we have division split down the face with two greedy eyes looking in opposite directions, and we have many, many others.

    We are not living entities; we're the skeletal structures, proteins, and foods for these invisible demons. And what's more is they've tricked us into a box to facilitate the eating; who cares where we were before the box, and who cares after we get out of the box IF we get out of the box. Right now, we're worm fodder, and nobody likes the taste of death. Death is in the box, crooning over each singular or multiple within the box; it's taking it's slow time to poison us with it's poison, slowly digesting us like flies to bread. Once digested, we're eaten.

    The sea inside the box becomes coloured with ethereal colours we've never before seen until we've opened ourselves to the possibility that everything we've assumed is wrong. the sea becomes the waves of truth washing over us, allowing us to see what we never wanted to notice in the first place. A storm starts to rage inside your heart; nothing can possibly be this way, there must be some hope with the basic assumption that there is another way the reality within the box is not simply existence within a box. There must be something else.

    The desperation mounts. We can see the box as an entity, and we can see ourselves as an entity. We’re stumbling over the samed damned ground; we’re reinventing the box, and we’re stuck in the notion of reinventing over the actual practice. We've even expanded our entities to include invisible demons such as death, and perception. Why can't it all be exactly the opposite of what we suppose is. Lightning booms within the chest and there's the sudden drop in body pressure, making the heart jump into the throat. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to start to get choked up. The storm rages on. The granite cracks. The waves become blown black, “…until human voices wake us, and then we drown.”