The white door

There's the white door again, another scolding ahead. The green grass seems taller. I've been standing here for maybe 5 or 10 minutes I guess, hoping Jesse doesn't come out to call again. What would I say. For sure, it's going to be another excuse as usual. It just seems to get harder but I can't flick. I can't just give in or ebb, demand is on my heel to race. I know it's my responsibility. I know I've got no option. I know I'm gonna slither down the muddy loamy puddles just right ahead and go through that white door. It's just going to be another reminder of my failure, have I gotten so used to failure. Or am I tired of responsibilities, No!  That's like being tired of life. There's the cool breeze that just whiff pass, it seems to carry away my troubles. But shortly after it reminds me it's still rainy season. I've got to get in. Okay, I'm ready to take anything. I can't risk getting wet. Now there's an improvement, I'm walking now even though my speed could be related to that of ants collective moving a dead earthworm that they probably battled to its death into their hole just right beside the wall of this tall building. The building contains 3 halls of at least 12 feet high. With blue coloured walls and 6 doors, 12 for each hall;  all of same colour.
Even though I aggrandize the journey it's just been 6 meters from my start point. I knock as the norm expectsand push the door and the oil paint in on my palms. "Oh, it's just been painted" I remember. The rust had already chewed the width of the metal at the base to a thin sheet of paper just before the authorities noticed halls have doors.
I quickly pull back but my hands stick back what's the need, my hands are already stained.