Why is it that we strive so hard to box and pack things, to be stacked into black and white boxes?Why does the lack of conformity feel like an existential crisis?
Every emotion one feels, is represented by colour. A lot of them, are a blur of colour, are entities with ragged ends, jutting out, overflowing or not quite filling the boxes, or the black and white.
So, has the fear of involvement and vulnerability taken over so thoroughly, that we cease to exist beyond that feeble caricature of black and white emotions, our real selves?
We are more than the neat little boxes, so why not live like the we are? We are meant to jump, walk, skip, fall, stumble, pick ourselves up and dance upon the perfect, imperfect, open, unopened, tainted, even the most un-boxlike of boxes. What we need, is the idea of conformity, the boundaries to understand what we are capable of, that we fit in, and we stand out.
The boxes are not to imprison us, they are to show us how truly spectacular we are, and that we make miracles happen, we weave magic.
