don’t you hate that?
two doors.
which one do you choose?
the bigger one, with the crowd flowing into it? a window right in the front, easily able to look back… if need. you are pounded into the walls by sweaty bodies, all blind… and following the mass into the darkness. your feet trample over the over- used floor boards.
or the small one, with only yourself unlocking the rusty doorknob? the skeletons rattle as you open it, cobwebs mesh over your sweaty face. you are alone. the only flicker of light comes from a rusty lighter in your shaking hand. but you know if you can scrape out of this alive… you’d be the best.
two doors.
which one would you choose?
alas, the small one… your brave and have something to prove right? you refuse to let fear stand in the way of the mighty power within yourself; driving you past the dark shadows and the maggot- eaten dreams that failed as you pass by. right?
bullshit.
you’d pick the common, safe and secure path.
because your a pussy.
