The box is modern life under late capitalism. It's your calendar. Your health insurance login. Your performance review template. It's the forced smile in Zoom meetings and the existential weight behind "just doing your job." It's the sense that your days are filled with movement but not meaning. The box isn't theoretical. It's ergonomic. And we live in it.
You’re not broken. You’re just inside the box.
The one that tells you if you work hard enough, you’ll feel free. But mostly, you just feel tired.
This writing isn’t here to fix you. It’s not here to hustle, hack, or optimize you. It’s here to keep you human.
Each short piece is a dispatch—part spoken word, part late-night thought spiral, part survival note.
We talk burnout. Identity. Corporate theater. The quiet grief of being awake inside a system that wasn’t built for you to thrive.
But we also laugh. Rant. Reflect. And maybe—somewhere in all of this—remember who we were before we got so good at performing.
Because maybe we can’t escape the box. But we can make it more human. One note at a time.
Still here. Still thinking. Still human.