On The Outside Looking In

I always find myself here

On the outside, looking in;

Looking in on others lives

And love I'll never win.

In all the things I've done

And places where I've been

I'm always on the outside,

Looking in.

My life's been filled with loneliness

And emptiness and pain,

And every time I think I'll win

It comes around again

To take away the sunshine

And leave me in the rain;

This cold and lonely life here

Filled with pain.

So do I quit looking and trying to show

How much I'm willing to give,

And do I quit trying to be in their lives

And keep to myself as I live.

Doubts that started small

Grow ever stronger now, it seems,

Shadowing my daylight hours

And creeping in my dreams.

When I was uninvited,

Or chosen last for teams,

The reasons grow more obvious,

It seems.

Looking toward the future now,

I know not where it leads;

To loneliness and misery,

Or marvelous, great deeds.

I see there only things to fear

And empty, unfilled needs

And no one there to take me

Where it leads.

So do I quit looking and trying to show

How much I'm willing to give,

And do I quit trying to be in their lives

And keep to myself as I live.

- RD Clyde

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I watched him that morning. Watched from my great distance above him.

He seemed to be getting on with his life. Slowly.

I was glad.

There was no need for him to be lamenting over me for long. I was still here.

In a way.

True, I'd never be able to tell him I was here. I'd never be able to speak to him, touch him, love him. But I could see him, and I hoped that he could see me.

Everyone else was still oblivious to his pain though. It didn't help that he tried to hide it all the time.

But I saw. When he thought no one was watching.

I was.

He struggled through his day. I hoped he'd go home and rest. But not him.

Not John Carter.

He'd changed since I'd left.

No longer so carefree, happy.

God, I missed him. Never did I think I'd miss anyone like I missed him.

I ached for him. Day. Night. I longed to be with him.

Sometimes I'd go to his apartment and sit down with him. Watch TV, listen to music.

I'd watch him make dinner, watch him sleep. I think that sometimes he could sense me there. I hoped.

This evening I don't know what he had planned, so I stayed with him at the hospital.

He saw this boy. He was only about 7 or 8. Scared and frightened, his mother nearby, but seeming so far.

I watched him as he calmed down the child, made him feel more comfortable.

He was always so good with people.

The boy stopped cowering and sat straight up as he was examined.

My diagnosis was correct. Except I could tell no one.

I could not rejoice.

Instead I sat and watched as the boy's mother was told that the boy had cancer. Even the illustrious John Carter could not make this have a happy ending.

After they had gone, I followed him to the bathroom.

I don't know why. But I did.

He walked in there, and nearly broke down into tears.

But he didn't.

He remained strong. Like he did not need to be.

Someone entered and he covered his grief, he stood up tall, washed his hands like he had other business, and walked out, and carried on. Like nothing was wrong. No one could know.

But I knew.

He then took on a trauma. A woman who had been in a car crash.

Here there was more hope.

A happier outcome.

The woman would live to see another day. To see her children grow up.

Still he did not seem much happier at this prospect.

Would he ever laugh again?

Would he ever smile? Enjoy himself? Be like any other person his age?

It was time for lunch. He went to the cafeteria and bought some food.

He took a table. Sat alone.

Even when there were others around him who he could sit with.

Loneliness could never be happiness.

Fortunately this time he was seen. Luka came and sat with him, despite protests.

They sat almost in silence.

Luka then started to talk.

I shouldn't have listened, it was none of my business. But I did anyway.

Luka asked how he was.

He said he was fine. But in that unconvincing way, where you can tell that the other person is not fine. You know the one.

Luka asked again.

He answered, more truthfully this time.

'I miss her.' I'm sure he said.

I could have been wrong. In fact I probably was.

'I've not even gone to see her.'

Well, he was probably just talking about someone else then.

Luka remained quiet though, listening as only he knew how.

They talked a long while. Until he got paged back to the ER.

Then he excused himself, walked out.

Slightly happier for talking about his feelings.

But still not John Carter.

He completed the day with several mundane, normal cases.

You know, the regular kids with broken bones from messing around, those people who really haven't got much wrong, but come to the ER anyway, that sort of thing.

He was nearly through the day when another trauma came through the doors.

A girl who'd been gunned down almost to death.

He paused for a second, I'm sure.

He thought twice about it.

But then he realised he had to do his job.

He got in that room and tried to save her.

I mean, really tried.

The boyfriend turned up, but still there was no hope.

She died.

Nothing anyone could do.

I went with him to go see the boyfriend.

I listened.

It wasn't even her fault.

Wrong place, wrong time.

She'd been completely innocent of everything.

The boyfriend broke down completely.

'How am I going to live without her?' The man asked in his grief.

But even John Carter couldn't answer.

I tried to tell them that she'd never really be gone, but they couldn't hear me. That was what was most annoying, I guess. I knew stuff that they needed to know, but they couldn't hear me.

'I miss her already.' The boyfriend said. It reminded me of the conversation in the cafeteria.

It reminded John too.

He tried to comfort him, in fact he said some really touching and real stuff, but I'd already stopped listening.

I had to let go myself.

Later I followed him into the doctors lounge.

He opened his locker, and removed his labcoat, put on his jacket.

I followed him outside, and then to a florists.

I wondered where he was going.

It was cold out.

Or it would have been if I could feel it.

He should be going home to where it was warm.

Not that I could tell him.

He went in almost the opposite direction to his house though.

He walked almost for miles. With me following him closely.

Finally he came to a stop.

I didn't even realise where he was until I looked twice.

He lay down the flowers on the ground.

Said a short prayer.

Talked a long while.

Turned and left.

But not before he whispered, 'I miss you.'

I stayed there.

It was where I was supposed to be.

'I miss you.'

The words echoed around my head.

I looked down and read the stone.

'Lucy Knight

1975-2000'

He missed me.

Weird.

I think I missed him more.

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