I think of him, and my heart shivers with content, and fear, desire, and potential consequence. In my mind, I see him appoach those great heavey doors, and walk through tall and strong into a room of stangers, a sweaty mess and a snowboard strapped to his back. I see myself running after him, seeing those eyes filled with precalculating preditions on who I will turn out to be, and I slow, turning back to the darkness I came from.

I watch the man whom my heart hammers after disappear into a world he is strong enough to feel the need not to fight, and I watch timid from the sidelines, afraid to enter a world of unpredictability. 

My brave hero would laugh at my pitiful fears, and perhaps it is just. Arguably so,  but so are my fears, and I come to a draw, standing above my relfection in the shinny polished floors. My choice had already been made.

I ran for those doors. And I wasn't thinking of him on the other side. I wasn't thinking of all those people I could prove myself worthy to, I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself.

The only thing that passed through my mind, was the realization that once those doors closed, I wouldn't be strong enough to open them again, and life was too short to be shut out wondering what could have been.

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