one empty box

I don't know where to start but I guess I'll start off by saying this – things don't always end up like you imagined them to be. I can't seem to forget about it.
Maybe I just didn't imagine myself getting anywhere by the time I'm twenty five years old. All I thought was I'll have a couple of kids, a loving husband, maybe a dog, and a very nice job, I just didn't know how all of this was going to happen. Especially the loving husband part. I can't seem to do anything right. And I feel like I have nothing to do about it. I feel like I have nothing.
such a big word with so much emptiness. Nothing. That much space, but nothing to fill it in with. I don't understand why I can't fill it in. I really want to. I wish I could.
I'm trying to fill it in but it never works. It's like trying to fill a box with air, it's just never enough. My box is empy, but I want to fill it in. I really do.
I remember when I was a little girl, I used to sit by the window, just staring at the cars, staring at the people, the birds, the clouds, anything that moved. Because the things that moved had made me feel as if I were moving too. But I wasn't. I was stuck, always.
I could sit there for hours, just watching everything. I wouldn't even notice how much time I was sitting there doing nothing. I wish I hadn't stared. I wish I had moved too, like the cars and the people.
I used to collect these feathers that had fallen from the pigeons in our back yard. I thought if I would collect enough of them, I could put all of them together, glue them together somehow and then I'd have wings and I could fly. I really thought I could fly. Isn't that silly? I mean, what kid believes that, really. I was like six or maybe seven. I guess my box was empty even then.
at some point I realized I wasn't going to fly anytime soon. First off, because the wind kept messing all my feathers and then I couldn't find them anymore. Second off, I guess I grew up, finally. I think I'm still silly. Or innocent, I'm not really sure about that one.

I really need something, I want someone. I want something to put in my box. I want someone to want to be in that box, in my heart, holding my hand. I think no one wants to be the air in my box.
No one wants to be my air.
maybe that's why my box remains empty.
maybe that's why I'm empty
nothing.