I live in a box

Human can never actually be free.
As fatalistic as they can be, they would only run into another confined space with yet plottable boundaries.

So why are we running?

Why am I running?

I live in a box.
I don't think human are meant to be kept in a box.
We're not bugs.
Even bugs are not meant to be kept in a box.
These boxes came from other people.
I think I have several for myself too. Sometimes it's big. Sometimes it's small. Sometimes I can grow within it. Sometimes I can't even breathe.
I have each for every different person. But this boxes are lidless. I let others grew out of it.
Some did. Some didn't.
Yet, somehow I always got inflexible boxes. The ones that doesn't even have holes to peek out, or breathe. Crammed. Pained. Killed.
I run from these boxes.
Maybe not.
Sometimes I stayed.

Or, rather...
I ran, but I convinced them that I was still inside.

I don't see why this is so hard to understand.
I don't think anybody wants to be rejected.
So I live in their boxes. Just to please them.