Trapped in a box.

I feel boxed in at the end of a long corridor. I look around and the only way out is to either break through the wall or go back the way I came. I don't want to go back. I've been there and that place does not hold the power to keep me going. The wall ahead is deep and strong and I can't break through it. The side walls are flimsy and riddled with holes, but they lead only to limbo. I have been boxed in at the end of this corridor for years, unable to move forward and unwilling to go back. Staring at the wall that blocks my path has been slowly stoking the fires that burn my sanity. The pressure of finding a solution builds as I begin to feel the roars of hunger echo through the empty rooms of my soul. I smoke some grass to abate the hunger and slip away, floating on the tendrils of white smoke as they dance amongst the air molecules and slip through the holes in the sidewalls, into limbo. Briefly I escape the torment of the riddle embedded in the wall before me and the lonely echoes that reverberate in those empty rooms. So there I rest, outside the corridor, in a limbo filled with emotion and an veiled love of life as the wall grows thicker before my vacant body. It would appear to an observer, as it appears to me in my mind's eye, that I sit before the wall that torments me, giving up and wasting my time in a haze of thc. What can not be known or seen by the casual observer is that I have temporarily escaped the box that traps my body and, from the limbo that surrounds my prison, I gain a new perspective of the riddle that lies before me. Now, after many years of contemplation from limbo, I have discovered the secret of the wall and I may have found a way out of my prison. I have spent years beating on a wall that will not budge; pushing, pounding, forcing, hitting, yelling, screaming, waiting, despairing, hoping, wishing, willing, thinking, surrendering. Nothing I have done has made even a blemish on that confounding wall, because, you see, the secret behind the riddle of the wall is that the wall is my creation. I created it and therefore only I can break through it, but neither force nor time has weakened the wall. So, I will attempt a new solution. I will use magic. This is a very special magic that I will use, for it comes from me and from everything that has come before me and brought me to this place. I've carried this magic with me since before the day I was born, it resides in my blood. It is life. The magic of life. I will stop pounding on the wall, it is a waste of time and energy. Instead, I will take my life-magic and paint a door on that wall with my very blood and then through the magic of imagination I will open that door and I will walk through it and I will face the demons that lie beyond and I will be their doom. I will not be deterred by any wall, let alone one of my own creation.