Doors That Won't Open

Well that was the weirdest birthday on record.

I spent most of my weekend knocking on doors that remain unopened both literally and figuratively.


I spent most of the weekend trying to locate Georgia. This I spectacularly failed at.
As perhaps the one person who really has any understanding of me at all or is even interested in attempting to understand me; she is an important friend. That I tramped up to her house (Far end of Carlisle) no less than four times, twice when she wasn't there, twice when all appearances indicated that she was in, but no one answered the door, even when all the lights were on.

Pauley and Jenny, who I was staying with, on my last but one day I tramped to their house (The other far end of Carlisle) twice, and yet again, lights on, nobody answering, even though I knew that they were in.

I have come to the incredible knowledge that all doorknockers are completely inadequate at fulfilling their job description.

Thankfully Lindsay (How much do I love that girl) put me up my last night.

In other news: The Holy Trinity: Haley, Amy and Sabrina. The three girls from Carlisle I love/care about the most. All made an appearance this weekend. In various ways.

Saturday, I got very very depressed, having lost Pauley, having realised that there was no one and nothing in Carlisle for me any more. I sat in The Source and chewed over my sweet potatos and dip and finally sent a text message I vowed I'd never send.

I told Haley I loved her.

I thought I had been doing well. Hadn't seen her in a couple of years except slightly at graduation, and a couple of hours in Scarborough with Mark. And yet. It wasn't as if I was moving on, or as if I even wanted to move on. She's someone else's girl, always was. Not even mine to lose. Yet feelings are feelings. I'd known for a long time that I had to make those feelings known to her before I could feel like I could look at another woman and not miss Haley. Every day for the past year, I have thought. I'll text her today telling her how I really feel about her. And every day has gone by and I had not done it, and the longer it went on from the very first time I met her, the harder it became to say anything. There were times, I think, that she would have left Mark for me, but I was too chivalrous to take advantage of those times because it would not have been right for me to take advantage of her loneliness or depression.

And I do it now! When she's been back with Mark for two years. When there is not a snowball's chance in hell of her saying anything except what she said to me which is perfectly justified and barely perfunctory. Again, like when I told Natalie that I loved her, or even when I told Kat that I had a crush on her, both of whom I had feelings for, which I'd had for years. Neither of them really grasped what I was trying to say. Neither wanted contact with me really, after I'd told them, and I expect the same with Haley. They assume that whatever I appeared to be to them was something false because whatever I was to them was underpinned by feelings that they didn't know about or couldn't return or whatever.

Maybe it was false, but if so, every single thing we do is false. Every friend we make is false. God knows I've had that proved to me on enough occasions, but I never expected it of myself. Every friend I have is more important to me than myself. There is nothing I ask of anyone, and yet, am I false? With Kat? With Nat? With Hayley? With the women in my life? With those I want to be with and yet not just fail to be with them but actively shoot myself in the foot over them?

More on that later, but for now, on to Amy.

Amy, I love Amy, she's brilliant, she's wonderful. I fancy the hell out of her. No feelings, but by God I could develop some. Or at least I could have until three or four years ago when she got a boyfriend and moved out of Carlisle to Edinborough.

And that was the last we saw of her pretty much. Until Saturday.

I'd already left The Source, having eaten my Sweet Potatos and dip. I had gone to The Sportsman to see Sabs and Lindsay, of which more later. When the absent Pauley, rang me to say that he was on his way to The Source. So I tramped all the way back to Denton Holme.

Pauley was in the back room. Not that I knew this. I was in the front room. When Amy walks in. I only saw her from the back but I'd know her anywhere. She sees me and gives me a hug and kiss hello. And sits in the corner. I would go and talk to her except I'm talking to Jody. (A guy, of whom, more later) So when I finally get rid of him, I have to go and join Pauley as he has found me, and seeing as Amy is deep in conversation with someone else. I tell her not to go anywhere without coming and catching up properly.

Of course she goes. Of course she bloody well goes. Why wouldn't she? It's not like I couldn't stop talking to a guy I'd just met in order to talk to an old friend I hadn't seen in years? Someone whom I absolutely adore and is someone with so much joie de vivre that she's infectious.

No I couldn't.

Jody.

Or more accurately: Jody and Sabrina.

I had met Jody before, not in person, but down the end of a radio set. I was in Sabs room and he was outside and I pretty bluntly told him to go away. My exact words were, if I recall correctly: "Look mate, the lady don't want you and you're just embarassing yourself, so do yourself a favour and fuck off."

Which he did.

However he later came back, and back, and back. In fact, every time Sabrina gets rid of him, he comes back. As Lindsay said. He's like a boomerang. And, not a particularly pleasant one at that. Sabrina has kept us apart for the very good reason that we would kill each other if we ever met.

So we met without her knowledge. Without our own knowledge either. Sat in the Source with no one but each other, he asks me to look after his pint. I do so and he joins me. What then occurs is a masterclass in infiltration. Mainly cos I was depressed and spent half the conversation unaware of who he was, and then the other half wishing he would go away so I could talk to Amy.

He was aware of who I was almost from the off, just my name. He got it. He asked me pertinent questions, which I answered, wondering how he was guessing so much. I was polite and asked him about himself in return. We had quite a lot in common. It was only when he told me that he had gatecrashed a party of Jehovah's Witnesses the other day which had been an interesting occasion as he was an ex Jehovah's Witness himself. At which point I gave a huge mental AAAAHH! So that's who you are.

He was playing a game. I wasn't. Which is why he left, thinking that I was quite unaware of who he is. He also thinks I am a nice guy, which I am, and no threat to him, which really depends on how dangerous he becomes to Sabs.

Sabs meanwhile, is an idiot. A poor self destructive idiot who can't stop playing with fire. Which is all the more annoying considering that I love her to bits and, even though I can't be there to help sort her out mentally any more, woe betide anyone who hurts her physically. Especially Jody. Which should be fun, considering he seems to be bigger than me.

I didn't see her this weekend. Or at least I did see her twice. Once when she was drunk, and once when she was very drunk.

I did knock at her door at one point. She was having sex with Jody. Before we met.

Everything screams out to me, leave her be. If she wants to mess up her life she is gonna mess it up no matter what you do. She is pretty good at messing up her life. On the other hand I will never stop caring about her.

Maybe this too is false? Maybe I care because I am in love with her? It is not hard to be in love with her, every boy who lays eyes on her falls in love with her. Maybe the fact that I managed to walk away from her this weekend is also false, a falsity of falseness?

I think she lied to me. I don't know. I think it. I have been away too long. She does not trust me like she did once. Yet at the same time, she knows that I will always be there for her, always. I felt it when she hugged me, even while barely conscious, I felt it. She used to call me her protector. Debbie used to call me that too once, even though she too has drifted away from me, or perhaps I from her, from both of them.

Yet, once appointed to that position, it stands for life.

Both are dying. Sabs and Lindsay. Smoking dozens a day, drinking themselves sick. Lindsay has a wracking cough that screams cancer. I can't protect them from that. Now or at any point in the future.

And now I am back at home, alone. Essentially, always. I am 25 now and I am, have nothing. No one. I knocked at doors and no one but no one opened them. No one invited me in. No one offered me shelter or companionship, no one even knew I was there as no one could hear me knocking. They weren't in, or they were sleeping. They had other visitors or were having sex.
They might once have invited me. Sometimes I was even guest of honour. Now I am lucky if they leave the curtains open so I can look inside through the windows. And see my friends, happy, not happy, in love or lust or hatred, still alive, a little older, a little dusty, fine tuning their lives.

And I sit outside their door and I hear them. And I am glad that they are happy, and that is why I can turn and walk away from their door, although not without posting them a letter perhaps, as I did with Haley.

My fate is always to be on the outside of the door. I have become so used to wandering out by myself that even if someone were to open a door to me, could I walk through it?

No. I know the answer, doors did open. I have simply and methodically shut them again. Almost as if I have a wish to be a martyr. But the real reason is that I cannot live, cannot survive in just one house. I wander along, looking at each door in turn, noting it's beauty. I knock, expecting no answer, and even if there is an answer I simply look through the doorway for a time and then turn away.

Not content, no, I am not happy. Maybe that is my lot, to be unhappy, to be alone and afraid but mentally and physically incapable of taking that one step.

Georgia, Hayley, Sabrina, Amy, Debbie, Lindsay, Ruth, Natalie, Kat, both Naomi's. I love them all. And what of it? What of my love in a world where no one wants it, where I am of no consequence. These are, or were, some of my best friends.

The answer surely lies in proving that I am worthy, of living, not just of loving. But I have no need for proofs. I am not going to be a person who sets the world alight with his sparkling personality , charming wit or even displays of genius. I simply am, and as always, that is good enough for me.


I am, I am, I am, I cry
Remembered and Foretold.