The Door.

I’m sitting in a room with only one door. It’s a pretty big room, once full of people that I know. We’ve had so many great times in this room. The memories are taped on the wall like photographs, I look at each of them and smile, occasionally laughing. Once, everyone was partying in the room I was in, but they’ve all left. There’s another room beyond the door and I don’t know what’s in there but people are running for it. That door scares me, mostly because I don’t know how to even come close to opening it. Or even wanting to. Because God knows what’s on the other side. So I sit there and stare at it and no one understands that I can’t just open the door and walk through it. But to understand the next room, I need to go through the door. The people, they joke and encourage me to ‘open the door! It’s easy!’ But I can’t, not even if I wanted to. I’m frozen and I’m just staring at everyone go through the door. When they open the door, I try to glimpse past them but it seems blurred, I can’t see to understand from this side of the door. They seem happy, moving on from the room, through the door. Why do they go through the door? Sometimes, they come back to my side of the door and they cry for a bit. They tell stories in rage about the room next door. It makes me wonder why they stay in that room. But they also speak of it’s joys and laughter and it sounds even more beautiful than I could ever imagine. Eventually, the person who came back to my room, goes right back through the door. Back to the beautiful room.

I’m afraid of that door.

I’m even more afraid that I’ll never find out what’s so great about that next room that’s right through the door.

So I work hard and laugh out loud and I continue on with my life, all the while the door silently haunts my thoughts, creeping in just when I had almost forgotten about it.

That stupid door.

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