The Ugly Life Box

This morning I woke up from a dream. In this dream, I died. Some girl shot me. When I woke up, I had this insane urge to clean my room. Well, at least a little bit of throwing away of trash and finding a place for things that never had a home.

I took down a box I had stored in my closet. When I opened it I realized I forgot how important this one box was. From the outside I thought it was going to be trash—it’s a cardboard box that was used for moving purposes. I opened it and found treasures. It’s that moment that I started thinking…

If I died, this box would tell my story. I look around my room and everything has my fingerprints on it. If someone didn’t know me and walked into my room, they would figure it out quickly. My movies consist of mostly happy endings with the exception of funny girl and sweet charity both of which I’ve only watched once. I have a guitar out of its case and a chord cart on my wall. If anything, you could probably figure me out by what music I have in my itunes collection. I have a ballet dancer poster even though I am not much of a ballet dancer any more. There are so many clues in this room that would give you depth behind my outer appearance.

However, this one box carries memories that go far beyond the inner and into the core of me. And it caught me off guard and got me thinking… You know, I haven’t done much in this life. At least not much in my book. It’s all because the expectations I have for myself in the future. I haven’t experienced any of it. If I died today, right now, I would only have what I’ve been through to define who I was. All I’ve done is go through my life one chapter to the next and trying to get to that next level. I have never sulked or soaked in parts of my journey. I’ve always wanted to fall, get up, and get going. I’m not sure if that’s healthy but like I said, I had and still have high expectations for my life and I would do anything to just keep the ball rolling.

It’s kind of hard to write this blog in all of its honesty.

There’s this one part of me that I love. I love that I do things with meaning. I love to find the meaning in everything and I hate to do things without a meaning behind them. My life is full of meaning. Finding and opening that ugly box this morning really showed me, me. I thought about decorating the box, maybe making a collage or wrapping it with pretty wallpaper but I discarded those ideas. I love the ugly life box. It’s so me. An unfinished story, the ugly duckling, the crazy dreamer. But what’s inside? You’ll never know till I die. Let’s not hope that that happens soon.