01.04.14 (Day 100)
I’m at home, where I’ve been for the last couple of hours, having sat up talking to one of my old housemates having taken him in again. He was good enough to have not just let himself in – despite knowing where the house is – and instead waited for me on the route he knows I take home.
Then I got a call from Kent Police, as my housemate has been reported missing. He’s nearly 30 years old and can look after himself (sometimes) and me (sometimes) but not tonight. Now it’s my turn to look after my mate. So in much the same way that I’m a “known associate” of my young female friend who ran away a little while ago, so I am of his. So who do the police call? They approached me in McDonald’s earlier when they were looking for him but I’d genuinely not seen him. They asked that I phoned them if I found him. I did, I did and wish that I hadn’t.
Right now he’s sleeping things off in a bed I made up for him (he’s not in mine this time), while I sit up and wait for the Old Bill, as apparently they need to check face-to-face that he’s okay and he’s safe.
(They did: pulled up in the car park in a fucking ice cream van (try not to alert anyone to our presence chaps!?) and I led them to my friend. A quick passing of the time of day and the filth was removed. They asked if he was okay to stay with me, he said yes and that was that. The point otherwise being?)
So why do I do this, when my kindness is invariably rewarded with hassle? As others have said, because I’m nice. I should really stop but I can’t. Which is part of why (one of the many reasons) I do believe that I’ve heard Him knocking, again. And I’ve let Him in, again. I did before, then I lost my faith because of all that’s gone on but it’s because of all that’s gone on that I’m back.
I don’t preach; I won’t preach. I’m quiet and generally withdrawn, except around certain people (that’s Aspergers). I do somehow impart wisdom though. I’ve been told that I have a gift (of the gab) and if that’s all I have and it can benefit others, good.
Most people – certainly those whom I knew as friends once – have far more than me materially but what I’ve realised that I have recently is far greater. And I’m putting it to use. “They” continue to avoid me or have disowned me: so what? I pray for them.
And I’m up, FFS! Having seen the ice cream van off at 01.42, I stayed up to watch over my mate in case he was unwell. I finally crashed at 02.42, so on top of the three to four hours’ sleep I was surviving on, I got another three: Mrs Thatcher would have been proud of this Thatcherite. I could and should go back to bed but I’m annoyingly awake now and I know that another 20-hour day lies ahead. Perhaps I’ll come home later and try for a nap. Who am I kidding?
So in just over an hour I’ll be off to McDonald’s for breakfast: bacon and egg wrap with Ketchup today as yesterday I had sausage and egg with brown sauce). I also need to let certain staff members (friends) there know that we found himself last night and that he’s okay. I’m meant to be in Tunbridge Wells later at one of the churches and I’m hoping to take him with me. I suspect he’ll just run scared though.
And he did. Run.
I can’t be omnipresent. I can run (with this back?) and I shan’t preach or be forceful as I don’t want to scare anyone off (even though he ran). I just hope that the words of wisdom I imparted earlier find virtue in a head other than my own. Maybe not today though.
Twelve hours and eighteen minutes ago, I finished The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time: so much I can relate to myself and when I think of my son. I had a wet face. One of my friends who works in McDonald’s ended up with a wet shoulder (she’s read the book too). The last book which moved me like that was Mr Vertigo by Paul Auster, so I’ve promised my friend that I’ll borrow it from the library and lend it to her.
Always misunderstood, I received a rebuttal from my ex-fiance, whom I’d emailed and proclaimed emotions for. I can’t suppress them. In any case, a very kind friend of mine who drives a taxi noticed that I wished to visit Sidcup and has offered me a lift. With the meter switched off. I’m meant to compile a list of things which I wish to collect from the flat but there’s so much that I gave up part way through. Currently the list runs thus:
I also received an abusive text from the ex-girlfriend, although I believe this may have been by proxy, judging by the poor spelling and grammar (I do have standards when it comes to choosing partners).
Love travels; love survives. What’s today’s date?