Forward I Go
Forward I go, into the future. Forward, proceeding always down an endless corridor lined with open doors. The labels on each portal are as varied as they are unqiue. Triumph and tragedy, illumination and deceit, comedy and spite, love and regret. Unknowable adventures stack on top of themselves, lining up for me, piled behind each door. The past and present lend themselves to my journey, simultaneously serving as both my fuel and my guide. I choose what door seems best to me and explore the possibilities it yields. A whole new hallway lined with all new doors. I close the door behind me and continue moving forward, always forward. My future is happening now; my future is waiting for me. I move towards it.
I wait, stuck, sitting slothlike in the squalid present. I have no drive, no desire to trudge any further into the unknown. Unyielding time passes me by, uncaring, unsympathetic. The future flees further away from me in time while I stay behind in perpetual “now”. The carpet in the corridor that leads to my fate remains pristine and untrodden. The endless rows of doorknobs wait for my hand to turn them, but gather dust instead. The doors will not open themselves. I stare mindlessly ahead at the possibilites that await me, but actively take no action. The path before me and the path behind me remain silent, static. The future will always be there, I reason. It comforts me to know that this sentiment will only be wrong once.
Turning my back on personal evolution, I move backwards. The future, even the present become memories as I retrace my steps through my own memories. I examine footsteps I’ve taken long ago, rooms which have long since been explored. These rooms are secure, this well trodden path presents no possibility for surprise. I kneel down, blow the dust from the treasure-trove of my culminated life experience and get lost in familiarity. A photo, a drawing, a handwritten letter, a card, a toy, an award, a song, an article of clothing, certificates of birth, education and death. As I bathe in familiar feelings and awakened emotions, time passed between thens and nows falls apart like a house of cards in a hurricane. Perceptions and motives that are decades old independently resurrect themselves. Tempered, refined by over 30 years of experience, they claw to the forefront of my mind and re-establish themselves as they see fit. I am re-armed, my toolbelt refurbished, my weapons sharpened, my edges exposed.
I turn and look over my shoulder, forward, towards the future.