I have grown quite tired of this transparent box I was raised in. I wish i'd seen it sooner. The cold water of knowledge rushes, trying to drown me. Muscles worn numb from swimming. I'm waiting for the water to float me to the top of this box, if I don't expire. Where I can scrape-roll myself over the edge, and fall. On the pavement, I can lie shivering until the blood starts to flow again. Then crane myself to my feet, and shake vigorously, enunciating life. Then wander, to a warm place in the sun. Where I can finish thawing. Then run.