I feel my mind brimming, with ideas and thoughts I'm unable to write down on good, white paper. It's exploding, unstable like a plutonium waiting disaster. I'm widening my circles, broadening my horizons. Stepping out of the box is not so difficult, only the walls seem to restrict me into the inner ordinary paint. I refuse to blend in, with the colour emaciating in it's wake. But the voices that call, beckon from that box, are lit with the sepulchral glow of who am I? Am I just another person in the world, living today and dying tomorrow? A nobody? Overruled. Court in session, please be back after 2 minutes. 2 minutes is all it takes to summon the courage of my inner calling. It can be done. I am somebody, not faceless, not nameless. Not worthless. I can do it. The power of intellect is spitting out goblets from my grey matter, on the walls, reminding me, don't give up hope. The liquid runs clean, evaporating into the ambiance with slow and gradual osmosis as my hands grab the lid of the box and silence them forever.
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