mildlyidle
Life As A Box
Journal Entry 1/1
There was such hope surrounding my creation. Personally, I thought things could go one of two ways: end up as a box with stuff in it, or end up as a creatively decorated box with stuff in it. I mean, once you’re created-as a box-there aren’t so many directions you can head off in, career-wise.
How big was I? Well, let’s just say I was built to house a dishwasher. Just between its taking residence between factory and house. Yes, I know what a factory is and what a house is. And no, I don’t think it’s too egotistical of me to consider myself a house, even for a dishwasher.
But you know, after I was delivered to the house, and my contents were extracted from me-with little care given to my edges, I should add-I just stood there, near the door, with only one pair of eyes on me. I didn’t know quite what to think. For me, a box, what did I want? Someone who’s capable of deciding I stay noticing me, or someone who seemingly has no say noticing me? Let’s put it this way. The first living thing to come touch me after that dishwasher was extracted was the family dog. Mikey, they called…her? Ah, Michelle… the tag said.
Mikey was the first to really love me. I mean, what is life without the assurance of another living being’s possessiveness of you? Suddenly, no one in that house could touch me. Mum and Dad? They hated the sight of me, but what Mikey wanted, Mikey got. And the kids? Well, let’s just say I got a rather cool makeover thanks to them. They adored Mikey. And Mikey adored me. You complete the equation.
I don’t know how long boxes live for. I haven’t had the chance to speak to too many boxes around here. But going by the number of boxes I’ve seen come and go, I’d guess they don’t generally live for too long. I, on the other hand, have found myself a friend, who I sometimes think I’m a source of comfort for. So I guess I should count myself amongst the lucky few. Not because I’m one of the few boxes in the world who actually got to live past the average life-expectancy of your average box. I’m sure there are more who’ve lived far longer lives than I. But because I got to mean something to someone.
Has anyone ever accomplished more?
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Journal Entry 1/1
There was such hope surrounding my creation. Personally, I thought things could go one of two ways: end up as a box with stuff in it, or end up as a creatively decorated box with stuff in it. I mean, once you’re created-as a box-there aren’t so many directions you can head off in, career-wise.
How big was I? Well, let’s just say I was built to house a dishwasher. Just between its taking residence between factory and house. Yes, I know what a factory is and what a house is. And no, I don’t think it’s too egotistical of me to consider myself a house, even for a dishwasher.
But you know, after I was delivered to the house, and my contents were extracted from me-with little care given to my edges, I should add-I just stood there, near the door, with only one pair of eyes on me. I didn’t know quite what to think. For me, a box, what did I want? Someone who’s capable of deciding I stay noticing me, or someone who seemingly has no say noticing me? Let’s put it this way. The first living thing to come touch me after that dishwasher was extracted was the family dog. Mikey, they called…her? Ah, Michelle… the tag said.
Mikey was the first to really love me. I mean, what is life without the assurance of another living being’s possessiveness of you? Suddenly, no one in that house could touch me. Mum and Dad? They hated the sight of me, but what Mikey wanted, Mikey got. And the kids? Well, let’s just say I got a rather cool makeover thanks to them. They adored Mikey. And Mikey adored me. You complete the equation.
I don’t know how long boxes live for. I haven’t had the chance to speak to too many boxes around here. But going by the number of boxes I’ve seen come and go, I’d guess they don’t generally live for too long. I, on the other hand, have found myself a friend, who I sometimes think I’m a source of comfort for. So I guess I should count myself amongst the lucky few. Not because I’m one of the few boxes in the world who actually got to live past the average life-expectancy of your average box. I’m sure there are more who’ve lived far longer lives than I. But because I got to mean something to someone.
Has anyone ever accomplished more?
Poll Rate this entry