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The box sits on the table alone.

Square. Brown. Plain. No labels.

The lid secures its contents. No clues. No holes to peek in. No writing.

The box is just there. Inhabiting a space. It’s reason for being is not known.

It is just there.

Is it for me? Who would leave me a box?

Usually a box would excite. But this one was different.

How? I don’t know.

Why? I just don’t know.

But I know this the box is somehow mine.


Was it always there, but I didn’t see it?

I lift the box. Test it weight. It feels light in my hands.

I shake it. No sound. No movement.

A box filled with nothing.


I place it back on the table. My fingers tap the lid.

I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want more ‘empty’, more 'nothing' in my already lonely world.


My hands hold tighter to it.

I try to see through its cardboard walls.

My mind swirled with maybe’s, what if’s and could it be?


The box is barren.

Does it hold value?

Empty can be dark, irrelevant, useless.

Empty is discarded. Collapsed.

Repurposed into something useful.


I sit the box back at the table.

Was I better not to know? To just walk away. To throw it all away.


The box seems to be empty. But is it?

Or was I missing something?

Did I really know what was I throwing away?

We fill boxes with things. Elements of ourselves.

Who we are.

Who we want to be.

Who we will be.

Memories.

Hope.

Dreams.

Our passions.


Everything has value.

Even nothing holds value.

Empty is waiting to be filled.

With dreams.

With all of the ‘could’s’, ‘maybe’s’ and ifs.

I wanted to run from the my empty box.

When did I give everything away?

Why didn’t I nourish it, cherish it, grow it?


Why did I let myself get so empty?

Nobody wants an empty box.

I turned my back on myself.

Tossed myself out.

Discarded me.

Do I offer nothing?

Even nothing offers something. A chance. A clean slate. Hope.

I am something.

The value I hold of myself is in my hands.


I lift the box. I was still light in my hands.

I am something.


The box feels heavier in my hands.

I remove the lid and look inside.


I see infinite possibilities.

Opportunities to be explored.

Dreams to be realized.

Paths to be walked.

Journeys to be taken.

The box was never empty.

I just had to see.

See that I was something. That even in the empty, the nothing, I was something.

I just had to see.

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