I have spent a lot of time inside my head recently. Wandering down endless corridors with an infinite number of doors to an infinite number of rooms. Most of them were locked.
They had signs on them that said things like: Someone Else's Opinion and Under Consideration. One locked door said: Liberals I Would Vote For. That door was locked, the hinges were rusted and I had to use my sleeve to clean the cobwebs from the frosted glass just to read the sign.
There were a few doors that appeared to be unlocked but only moved a few inches before becoming stuck. They had signs that said things like: News Outlets I Respect and Currently Working Actors I Admire. They were right next to another stuck door that said Currently Working Actresses That I Recognize.
Some of the doors, however, were wide open. A couple were just big openings into cave-like walls and had labels such as: Things I Find Funny and People I Don't Like. There were other unlocked doors with well oiled hinges that had signs declaring: Reasons Why Global Warming Is A Crock and Black & White Movies I Love.
Every now and then I would turn a corner and find a row of little, tiny doors. I would get down on my hands and knees, kneeling in the dust, and squint at the teeny, tiny lettering until I made out the inscriptions: Opinion Of Tom Cruise and Reasons To Care What Oprah Thinks.
But the thing that scared me the most was an entire section of halls and corridors blocked by a velvet rope with a placard that read: Reserved For Future Occupant.
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