I felt myself sinking the fingers of my hand my only life line to the surface of some pond or ocean that I was drowning in.  
Two feet, one foot from the door!


I heard the click of metal on metal. The male and female finality, their forces combined not with a togetherness of love.  Rather one of cruel prohibition.

My entry into the unknown future; the portal through which my new life was supposed to enter, my focused resurrection, the rebirth I had hoped for … denied.

Instead of a rebirth, a new life …  I was left once again with a sense of hopelessness; a petit death in the land of the living.

I stared at the wood grain of the oak door not ten inches from my face my chest  rising and falling feeling an incredible sense of despair thinking that an oak tree had blocked my entry to a forest of untold beauty where hope and good will, freedom and awareness, the potential for glee and joy, lived.

Instead, all I had was the sight of yellow wood grain and the thought of static failure.

I had arrived at the first crossroad of my life where my dreams of the straight and narrow were instantly transformed like some strange algorithm, the plus signs suddenly replaced by unknowns.