[ The Box ]
The Box supposed there came a time in a box's life where it would have to suffer through existential dread. What once brought it joy became nothing but a chore. The Box would rouse from its inanimate state at the sound of its alarm clock at the dastardly hour of seven AM. Its telekinetic limbs, groggy from the box equivalent of slumber, would fumble through its side table until its phantom fingers brushed against the cool screen of its iPhone and turned off its alarm.
It would float off to classes, but its usual gait would waver as if dragging its phantom feet unhappily because, truth be told, it dreaded to face its students, feared that they would notice the listless quality of its formerly exciting Philosophical lessons. It bought a lock, sealing its metaphorical heart inside, so they may never have to see the Box's deep and complicated emotional pain.
The lesson after today was as unexciting as usual. One of its students fell asleep halfway through, and while it was incredibly hurt by the action, it knew it could not blame him. After all, what effort had the Box put into its lessons? The Box was bored, and so was he. It could not fault him for feeling as the Box did.
When the period ended, the students filed neatly out of its classroom, but one insisted to converse with it. Its metaphorical heart fell as the silence stretched across light years. The Box dreaded what Freddy might say.
The Box supposed there came a time in a box's life where it would have to suffer through existential dread. What once brought it joy became nothing but a chore. The Box would rouse from its inanimate state at the sound of its alarm clock at the dastardly hour of seven AM. Its telekinetic limbs, groggy from the box equivalent of slumber, would fumble through its side table until its phantom fingers brushed against the cool screen of its iPhone and turned off its alarm.
It would float off to classes, but its usual gait would waver as if dragging its phantom feet unhappily because, truth be told, it dreaded to face its students, feared that they would notice the listless quality of its formerly exciting Philosophical lessons. It bought a lock, sealing its metaphorical heart inside, so they may never have to see the Box's deep and complicated emotional pain.
The lesson after today was as unexciting as usual. One of its students fell asleep halfway through, and while it was incredibly hurt by the action, it knew it could not blame him. After all, what effort had the Box put into its lessons? The Box was bored, and so was he. It could not fault him for feeling as the Box did.
When the period ended, the students filed neatly out of its classroom, but one insisted to converse with it. Its metaphorical heart fell as the silence stretched across light years. The Box dreaded what Freddy might say.