If I Had a Door

If I had a door, today it would certainly be closed.
My body language would say "enter and die"
I'd have avril lavigne or ashley simpson or some other screaming female vocalist blaring loud enough for my neighbor to be pissed.
But my neighbor wouldn't complain because my body language would say "enter and die".

If I had a door, I would probably add a lock.
I'd lock my door so my body language could not be misinterpreted.
I'd set my phone on the floor outside, letting callers know they will be ignored.
I'd stay logged out of my email service so that no one could reach me unless they came through my door.
But no one would come through my door because the knob would be locked and my body language would say "enter and die".

If I had a door, I'd probably also have a window. And if I had a window, I'd install blinds.
I'd close my blinds so tightly that passersby would think the light was off.
I'd keep a towel in the crack between the door and the floor so that the light couldn't escape.
I may even use headphones to listen to my pal avril so that the illusion of absence is achieved.
I'd appear to be absent, I'd speak to no one. I'd be working, for sure I'd be working.
But no one would know, because I'd have my own printer so as not to use the community printer.
A printer in my office. My office with a door. My door with a window. My window with the blinds. And the blinds, of course, closed.

If only I had a door. Then no one would see the mood I'm in. Because damn my inability to disguise my emotions across my face. My inability to pretend that when someone comes in frantic and running around as if the world is crashing down around us because we are one day behind on our soft deadling I get irritated. My inability to pretend that I actually care about the soft deadline. My inability to pretend I actually care about anything we do here.

If only I had a door.