Down the Rabbit Hole

Life begins as an empty room with a single door.

We open that door only to find another room, and when we walk in, the door locks behind us. Again, we are faced with a room... with doors. Not just one, but maybe two, or three, or a hundred.

Sometimes the doors are hanging open for us and the choice is obvious. Others are shrouded in mystery and take courage to open, but there's never any going back; the doors always lock behind us and we can only move forward.

Occasionally we walk into a room with windows that give us a glimpse into what the doors have in store for us. They might show us more than just what the choice is and we can sometimes glean part of our potential future.

But what happens when you enter a room with two doors, each with a window. Each has its promises and rewards, but also certain heartbreak. You choose one door, and part of you dies. You choose the other, and a different part of you dies.

How do you choose which part of you is more important? How do you know what the right move is? What if they're both the right move, and the problem is that there's two rights, and no wrongs?

Do you sit down and never decide, or is that what the wrong move is? Sometimes it almost seems better to just sit there, and become forgotten in that room, or maybe you begin wishing you could break the lock and go back, change things.

Is there a hidden third door that I'm not seeing? And if so, what's behind it? Does it kill more of me, or none at all?

Who am I?

What do I want?

Where do I go now?

The answer is never easy. Turning the knob is my burden and my burden alone. Oh how I wish for a third door... just one more option... just one more, please.

I can't do it.

I can't.