How the Story Ends (UNDER MAINTENANCE)

Some people are window. They watch, observe, and let the world pass through their glassy panes. They offer glimpses of possibility. Sunlight spilling through when you need warmth, a breeze slipping in when you need comfort. But windows are never meant to be entered. They are barriers that give the illusion of openness but never meant to be entered. They are barriers that give the illusion of openness but never the embrace of true passage.

And there are doors. Doors are rare. They stand firm yet open when you knock, leading you somewhere real. A door does not just offer a view. It invites you in. A door does not tease you with what could be. It makes way for what will be.

But the tragedy of life is that we often mistaken a window for a door. We press against it, expecting it to open, waiting for it to let us through. We mistaken presence for commitment, kindness for depth, attention for devotion. And then the glass doesn't budge, we are left broken, wondering why we were meant to step inside.

A door, when you find one, does not make you beg for entry. It does not stay locked when you need shelter. It does not make you question if you belong. A door welcomes you in, again and again, not just when it is convenient; but because it was built for those who are meant to stay