They say that closed doors are only closed because they aren't meant for you. You have your own special door somewhere out there, just waiting for you to slip in your special key and turn the knob to whatever it is that lies behind it. This all sounds great, and it dulls the ache from all the closed doors that we all encounter from time to time, but... But what if you don't find your door because somehow you took a detour trying to avoid the creepy corridor that led to the basement where dreams and sock puppets all go to rot and die? Do you still get to your door then? Do we all function like compasses that still end up finding the true North, or are we flies fumbling stupidly against glass windows praying to God that it breaks and we find ourselves on the right path again? I don't appreciate, nor do I believe in doors that magically belong to me. Especially because I know that I took that detour once because of the stupidly creepy basement. And I know that I might do it again someday, even though it could mean that I'll miss a few more doors along the way. Maybe even never make it back to the door that was especially made for me... I'll probably still end up close to where I wanted to be. I could even convince myself that I made it after all. Would I even know the difference? I never saw the magical door, right? I certainly never saw where it led to. So surely, I would be just fine... But I imagine it feels like the phantom pain of a lost limb. Without merit or logic, I'd find myself wincing and longing for something that's not there. Or in that case, something I never had...

Like I said, I don't like magical doors and if I do end up getting lost, I plan on taking an ax to the whole damn thing.