Little Boxes

They won’t fit sometimes. No matter how much I beg, scream, push and shove. I change the size, yet they still won’t go. I cut them down, and even still they won’t fit. I really, really tire of it!
These people won’t go where I need them to fit. They keep changing their boxes and I don’t like it one bit!

The loud ones suddenly jump into the quiet box, and the quiet ones now shout. The best friends go silent, while my hated enemies call to go out!

How dare they demand to change their voices, thoughts and dreams, now I have to consider them as whole people with agency, that fouls up my schemes.

When I want them, I need them to be where I left them. They have no right to live outside of my needs! Who told them they could thrive when I’m in the weeds??!!!

Oh, I see. They have changed, so their boxes must change too. Utter mislabeling simply will not do. I’ll give them the name tags and hand each a sharpie, that way when they feel the need, they can change labels at will and I will cut out the malarkey. They can write their own label on their box, or none at all! It’s my job to love them, no matter WHAT they are called!

Best friends don’t call, enemies hug. This world can get crazy, but soak up all the love.