My name is William, and I live in a box. It is not a physical box, not a tangible object, not made of wood or gleaming steel. No, it is a box created by my mind, a self-made bubble that isolates me from the rest of the world. It blocks my innermost thoughts and emotions that try to escape from their hiding places. It shields me from the world around me, effectively isolating me, for better or worse.
Why am I in this box, you ask? Is it not a lonely, dreary prison? Yes, but it also protects me. It creates a defensive barrier around my comfort zone, guarding the deepest regions of my psyche from outsiders, good and bad alike. I have no love for this box, but it provides shelter and protection, and it is all I have.