the box

shes seen many faces, many roads, many ways of life. so many hands had come and gone, some come and gone again. nothing felt normal unless she was doing something new. she was seemingly unaffected by the outside world around her. she cried sometimes, and died sometimes, but still knew how to love. she knew how to love so she stayed as far away from it as possible. she ran from anything that required emotion, while desperately searching for someone to share her knowledge with. only when shes ready to leave can she start to connect. images and distorted memories are much better than people. as she drives away from each chapter of her life, she tosses yet another rearview mirror into the box sitting on the backseat.