A SNAKE AT THE DOOR

MIA HOY

My therapist used to tell me there was another me knocking on my door, waiting to be let in. In (reluctant) pursuance of my (reluctantly) corporate lifestyle, the knock at the door

has been left unattended for some time. Though I hear the thump of the tail on the door, I don’t let the snake inside

– the snake being the creative pursuits I never chased and the non-capital skills I neglected, because, ‘You could never make a living off of that’. The only way to earn a living is to dedicate your life to climbing the ladder. To earn a living, to contribute to society through work, to be worthy of living

you must earn it.

I was conditioned to believe that if the door ever opened,

the snakes would surge inside and hinder my journey up the ladder. My snakes paint and they dance, draw, design, sew, sing and write. They lure you to the door with fine wine. But don’t worry, you are halfway through a prestigious degree that will allow you to retire at the ripe age of sixty-five. Born as Stepford Wives, who are you to reject the ladder? If only you studied more and hobbied less.