Mon, 01/02/2017 - 18:45 -- jthurau

I pass by eight doors on the way to my dorm room

Each one holds someone unknown and daunting

In an action full of fear and hope, I leave my door open.


As I slowly unpack, the unthinkable happens

A person appears in my doorframe with a knock, small and hesitant

In a move bolder than I thought I could muster, I begin a conversation.


One month has gone by and I hear a knock on my door

On the other side is my friend, new and intimidating

In a motion that still feels shaky and awkward, we make small talk to the elevator.


Flash forward five months and my door is booming with an excited pounding

I open it to see my best friend, warm and familiar

In a process that seems like second nature, we walk down the hall laughing together.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741