There is a box, and it is not here.

This is not a problem, but it is certainly a situation. The box in question has been described as both inevitable and unnecessary, which is a rare combination. Some say it contains the future, others insist it’s just a box. Both groups are correct, in the way that people are correct about things that don’t matter.

Predictions are easy when you don’t care about being right. The future, for instance, will arrive exactly when it’s supposed to, which is a comforting thought if you ignore the implications. Certainty is overrated, but uncertainty is exhausting. This is why we invent boxes—to hold the things we can’t name.

You’ve probably seen a box before. Maybe you’ve even opened one. The experience is always the same: a brief moment of anticipation, followed by the quiet realization that nothing has changed. This could have been a box.

Meaning is a flexible concept, especially when applied to objects that don’t exist. The box we’re not discussing is no exception. It doesn’t need to be real to be useful. In fact, its usefulness increases the less it’s defined. This is how all important things work.

There’s a certain comfort in knowing that some things will never make sense. The box, for example, doesn’t need to be understood to be relevant. It simply is, or isn’t, depending on who you ask. The answer doesn’t matter, but the question feels necessary.

This text won’t help you find the box, mostly because the box isn’t lost. It’s just not here, which is a different thing entirely. You could spend years searching for it, or you could forget about it entirely. Both outcomes are valid.

The future is a box we’re all standing inside of, but no one remembers how we got here. This is fine. The walls are soft, and the lighting is adequate. Sometimes, you’ll catch a glimpse of something familiar, but it’s never what you expected.

By now, you’ve probably realized that this isn’t about a box at all. Or maybe it is, and the box is just a metaphor for something else, which is also a box. The layers are endless, but the point remains the same: you’re already inside.

There’s no resolution here, just the quiet hum of a thought that refuses to land. The box is still not here, and that’s okay. Some things don’t need to be found to be meaningful. Others don’t need to be meaningful to be found.

You can close this tab now. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter.