a long white hallway and a locked door

aka a poetic-ish story about truths and lies - maybe (am I lying about the lies?)

aka a story about underwear.

I sometimes wonder about a group of people I met. 

I walked a long white hallway to meet them, and saw a locked door behind me. 

It was years ago.

It was sunny out. Fresh off with the chill of a still spring barely summer morning. 

The day I met them was a bad day. 

It was a horribly, terribly, atrociously, dull day.

But not in the “I’m so bored I’m going to kill myself” way, it was a remove the “first three words” kind of day. 

The day before this day, was a strange one.

I woke up. 

And that was that. 

I woke up 

and thought 

and felt 

nothing. 

Very odd. 

Very strange. 

For me. 

I woke up, and “I remember that the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the birds were chirping outside my window, and I felt and thought nothing.”

The days before that day were all out of sorts, a building of nothing, an omen. I don’t know whether it was good or bad. 

Gad. Bood. Baod. Goad. 

Morally grey days.

Anyhoo, back to the people and away from the tangent I feel coming on. 

I think about them, when days are difficult, when days are sweet, when the day is no longer sentences 7-8 of this story way of dull.

I’ll get to my point.

I pinky promise. I think. 

I didn’t meet them my first night. 

I went to my room, laid down, and didn’t move. 

For a long time.

And my first thought after nothingness? 

“I don’t have any clean underwear”.

I got up and walked down the long white hallway, past the locked door.

Walked into the blue box room, and met them.

We were all sat in a circle.

Answering the who, what, why, hows.

Listening to the who, what, why, hows. 

Silence. 

When I think about them, I think about what they shared.

What omens led them there. Why they tried and why they failed. How they want to not fail in whatever it is they want to do in life…Who they love.

“The veil” 

“I just want to know what it’s like, I am just very curious”

“All I do is drinking and drugs, that is all I am” 

“I am a musician and an artist. I also have powers.”

“I don’t want it anymore, I have a good job lined up, good place to stay, my life is good - I don’t want it”

“I am so tired”

“I don’t know why I’m here”

“I’ve been here before” 

I sat there, quiet, and also still thinking “I don’t have any clean underwear”.

When it was my turn, I remember saying some “I don’t know”s and “I am so”s. 

And on we went. 

I’m laying in bed, a long time later, just thinking of them. Hoping for them. Honoring them - I learned that one of them did not fail after all. Celebrating Honoring them.

Thinking of me and hoping for me. 

I still walk a long white hallway and there is a locked door at the end of it, but that’s that. 

And today, I woke up.

It’s a horribly, terribly, atrociously, romantically, rainy day, and I feel better. 

I’m also still thinking “I don’t have any clean underwear”.

So that’s the point of this I guess. 

I woke up.

And the sky is dark, the rain is falling, no birds are chirping outside my window, and I feel and think everything. 

The good, the bad. 

Gad. Bood. Baod. Goad. 

A morally and weather wise grey day. 

A day to wake up and go to the bank

to get the quarters

for the loads of laundry,

and finally have clean underwear. 

As always, thank you for reading.