You may think me a lonely person, but I’m damned if I ever admit to it. Yes, I spend all my days and nights locked inside my room without so much a bed as a mattress in the corner on the floor, a bar stool for a chair at my junk-covered desk and books stacked up on the floor. But need I therefore be lonely?
Then one day, I suddenly noticed the door in the far wall. It isn’t that it wasn’t there before, mind you, I just hadn’t really thought about it, about what it might mean, about where it might lead. I had written it off initially as a way to get from my room to my roommate’s, but acquainted as I now was with the approximate dimensions of the house as a whole, that now seemed unlikely. A closet, perhaps? I decided to investigate.
I opened the door–mind you, it took some effort to do so, and once the door was open… well, I’m not quite so sure you’ll believe me.
Behind the door, there stretched an endless tunnel.
As far as I can tell, this is no exaggeration. Being as I am, and not other, I entered to explore and set out with reckless abandon down this tunnel. On I marched through this endless darkness, having nothing better to do, and looking back occasionally to see how far I’d reached, to make sure I didn’t get lost.
Yet soon, I found no matter how far I adventured, the door I had come through was never all that far behind. I wondered, then, whether I really was getting anywhere, but, paying better attention, I noted the patterns of stone and moss and the occasional spatter of paint on the wall shifting their various dimensions and knew that something, at least, was changing. Was I really walking down at all, or was the tunnel walking down me?
Why was I walking down this tunnel? Was it idle curiosity that had driven me this far? Was it just that I needed to know why this endless tunnel separated my room from my roommate’s? Or was I just too bored to think of anything else to do?
And then, out of nowhere, a light appeared at the other end of the tunnel. I remembered, of course, the old joke about the light at the end of the tunnel being a train, but that didn’t concern me–after all, it wasn’t getting any closer to me like a train would, and besides, the door to my room was never very far away.
I wanted to know what there was at the end of the tunnel–of course I did–who wouldn’t?
But how much time was I willing to spend on this?
Well, what else am I going to do?