Door – stream of consciousness

All the doors at work are fire doors, so they are really heavy. I have to walk through 6 of them to get from my office to the waiting room, 6 on the way back. I wonder what we’re keeping in? Or keeping out? Technically, fire, of course, but there’s so much fear and pain and anxiety and anger in what we do, deal with, perhaps it needs to be kept in, perhaps at the end of the day the cleaners let it all out, in a great black writhing cloud that lifts up over the building and floats away, drifting in the air, heading out to sea, or over the moors. Maybe that’s why we have so much rain at the moment, it’s actually pain, falling down around us. Or maybe it just seeps into the walls, filling them up, so that they gently swell. Maybe one day the whole building will lift up, ballooned with anguish, and go flying off to somewhere tropical, or a desert, where all that stuff can dissipate. Maybe I’ll turn up to work and there’ll be nothing there, just a void. Or maybe I take it home, maybe it’s wafting out of the car window as I drive, the ultimate pollution, swirling down the plughole in the shower, spinning down the drain. Or maybe it just sinks down through the floor, deep deep deep to the centre of the earth. Does it really go away? Is it drifting out into deep space, a sobbing wail of dull despair? I hope it goes. I hope we’re doing something. It’s hard to hold on to, sometimes. But maybe the doors act to hold it in while we turn it into hope, or love, or determination. God knows, we need it. Anyway, there are 6 doors between my office and the waiting room, and I feel every one of them. Maybe they shut the world away, so as we pass through them we get to somewhere safer and safer, until we are in a safe enough space. Maybe that’s what they are for.

This is for Linda Hill’s Stream of Consciousness prompt. It’s the first time I’ve done this. It was really interesting to see what’s in my head at the moment…