There's a box. This box exists inside society's heart. Time and time again it's opened, only to be closed up tightly again. I would know, I've tried. It's an unspoken rule, and perhaps you haven't heard, but one doesn't open this box. People can, but they don't.
I made the mistake of opening this box. I dared to squish my fingers under the lid, and tearing them with all my might to open it. When the lid flew open, I was thrown back, and I'm sure society watched in horror at the open box. When the box was closed, no one needed to be bother by it's ugly insides, but when opened, they have no choice but to actually look at it. But people don't want to look at the box. The box repulses, it repels. 524Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6YdUjVECF9
And as much effort as it took to open this box, it took even more effort to keep it open. My legs propelled me towards the box, destructive in such a beautiful way, and I put all my effort into keep the lid away.
They looked at it, destroying their paper houses, pulling up their plastic yards, and I watched in awe. They were stripped of their perfect facades, the light from the box burning the fake aura, and for the first time I saw the world as it should be: Real.
But in my distraction, I didn't notice my heart pick up a bit too quickly, and I didn't notice my hands let go of the lid, and I didn't notice the box close. I couldn't ever open it again. The paper houses and plastic yards were rebuilt, and flavorless life began again.524Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXL3bvjwpom
