I wish I had more bravery.

That was my one thought as my feet traveled the familiar path to Sam's dorm. My heart was pounding mercilessly in my chest. My palms were sweating. My mind was racing and my feet felt like lead. I was terrified beyond measure, and yet I found it shocking I could still move.

My feet retraced the same path they always had. My eyes fell on the same landmarks: past the orange flier screaming about a club meeting; bypassing the smiley faced design of tacks someone had super glued to the bulletin board; over the rip in the carpet; leaving behind the dorm that was always blaring Guitar Hero and smelled of stale pizza. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a familiar forest green painted door. My brown eyes traced the numbers: 1-0-2. Paint had chipped off the door over years of reckless students living in that room. The door knob was a rusting brown color and had begun shifting off the door ever so slightly over the years. The stopper had been kicked off some time before. The rumor had been that a student years ago had shot it off with a .22.

No one could ever prove it.

My eyes gazed over every detail; looking at any chance to delay why I had come to that particular room. All around me, students were coming and going to class or work. Some traveled in pairs; others in solitaire. The loners always had the white signature ear bud headphones of an iPod sliding down the sides of their faces. A few students recognized me and said hi in passing. I couldn't remember if I'd replied; I just smiled softly and they moved on.

My hand finally poised itself above the door and knocked; an act that caught me by surprise. I waited for any recognition of movement from within the room. After a minute, my lungs started to burn, and I realized I had been holding my breath. Breathing out slowly, I struggled to remain calm. Every fiber of my being wanted me to scream and run in the opposite direction.

But I fought against instinct. Raising my hand again, I knocked and waited.

Still no response.

Relief swept over me as I took a step away; but the relief was soon replaced with dissatisfaction. I was anxious about seeing him; but I did wanna see him. I wanted to get everything over with.

I wanted to tell him I loved him.