a door

i worry that the number of passwords kept in my memory is growing too large. this often conjures up the image of too many demands. expert-designed hallways with walls angled at physically impossible angles, following a path borne of statistical genius. it's as though people want parts of me that never quite existed in the first place. you probably want me to single out reasons for this. words like ominous, transcendent, overarching, and hollow, fill your reaction. don't worry. i don't forget so easily. what you're seeing is something i've already given you. and i don't have to understand to know that we had it right the first time.