The door closes behind me, and suddenly the world takes on a darker tinge. Despair fills in on all sides, like water filling a bottle. There is only so much space, only so much air before it all runs out. Time begins its downward count. My heart beats painfully in rhythm with it.
There is something about the closing of a door, THAT door, in particular. It fills me with dread. There are connotations of abandonment, suggestions of changes and inaccesibility which I find difficult to live with. It is like the sealing of a tomb, a mark of certain permanence of being alone, forever alone. An aloneness that stretches into infinity. How could anyone not despair?