Writers 
There was a door
at the end of my street
that nobody talked about.
It had no house behind it.
No walls.
No roof.
Just a door
standing alone
beneath the afternoon sky.
Every morning,
I passed it.
Every evening,
it waited.
One day,
I stopped.
“Where do you lead?”
I asked.
The door said nothing.
So I tried the handle.
Locked.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I kicked it.
Nothing.
I shouted,
“Open!”
Still nothing.
I became angry.
“I have been waiting
for you for years.”
The door creaked.
Just once.
Then a voice whispered,
“No.
You have been waiting
for yourself.”
I stepped back.
The street was suddenly empty.
Even the birds
had stopped singing.
“What does that mean?”
The door answered,
“You keep asking me
to take you somewhere
you are afraid to go.”
I looked at the lock.
“What is behind you?”
“Everything you said
you wanted.”
My heart began racing.
“Then why won't you open?”
“Because you brought
the same person
who kept you trapped.”
I understood.
The excuses.
The fear.
The need for approval.
The habit of choosing
what was familiar
over what was possible.
I sat on the ground.
For the first time,
I stopped trying
to force the door.
I simply sat there.
And waited.
Hours passed.
Maybe days.
Maybe years.
I don't know.
But slowly,
I began leaving things
beside the door.
First,
my fear.
Then,
my need to be understood.
Then,
the names of people
who had convinced me
I could never become
more than they imagined.
Finally,
I left behind
the version of myself
who needed certainty
before taking a step.
The door opened.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
It simply became
a doorway.
I looked through it.
There was no treasure.
No crowd cheering.
No perfect life
waiting to congratulate me.
There was only a road.
Long.
Uncertain.
Beautiful.
I smiled.
Because suddenly
I understood:
The door had never been
keeping me out.
It had been waiting
for me to stop asking
for permission to enter.
So I stepped through.
And behind me,
the door disappeared.
Not because
I had finally found
where I belonged,
but because
I had finally learned
to carry home
inside myself.
