Imagine being put inside a box, and being left there alone. The contorted body is stuffed to fit, first with limited mobility, and then the complete inability to move. Claustrophobia sets in quickly from the compact space. Completely trapped and gasping for air, all control is finally lost. Escaping is no longer an option, and the desire to be freed is starting to fade. As time passes, identity no longer matters. Dehumanization begins to take place. There’s nothing left but a formless shape, fully bound by fear…fear of death, fear of survival...fear of anonymity, fear of existence.

I live my life trapped in this very box…trapped in the emotion of a lost childhood, stolen by an abusive father. His voice haunts me every day. His words bind me with thick ropes and wires that won’t loosen their grip on me. I long for freedom, that some days, I feel may never come. My identity was stolen from me, and I feel lost among a sea of wayfaring strangers that left me behind. I can’t help but long for him and for his love, all the while hating him in the process. I see his face in my reflection, and hear his words in the stillness of my thoughts, like a broken record I can’t even smash. This eternal fear that binds me will one day break me, if I don’t learn how to break it first.