It’s kinda like this.

I’m standing at your door, tapping lightly with my fingernails, hoping you can hear me. Too scared to get much louder for fear of alerting everyone and letting them find out I’m here. I don’t want them to know until you know. So here I am. Tapping. On your door.

But there’s no response. Am I tapping too softly? Maybe you can’t hear me. Maybe you hear the faint sound and you think maybe you’re hearing things. Here I am, tapping. And nothing.

So I use my knuckles and tap a little louder, just in case. Thoughts are running through my mind now, paranoia gripping me. Am I tapping too loud? What if you can hear me and you just don’t want to answer? Fear. Doubt. Here I am. Tapping. And still nothing.

I hesitate. My hand stops in mid-air, just before impact. Should I go just a bit louder? Should I give up and try another door? What do I do? I have been standing here so long, tapping. Some people have seen me already, walking by in the corridor. They know I’ve been here. They know I still am. Here. At your door. Tapping.

I tap a few more times. A little louder. A little more force. Can you hear me? Won’t you open the door? Let me in? May I? Can I? Will you? Or at least, at the very least, won’t you tell me I’m not welcome here? That the door will stay closed? May I know? Can I? Will you? Won’t you?

I glance down the hallway. There are other doors. Some I know are shut and locked. Some I have entered, and come out from. Yet others call to me, telling me that they may open if I knock. Maybe. But I’ve chosen this door. Yours. And though there’s no answer yet, not even the slightest hint that you’ve even heard my tap-tap-tapping, here I’ll wait. For now. A while longer. Just in case.

But… what if I’m wrong? What if you’ve heard? What if it’s the other way round? What if you’re saying ‘no’, but I can’t hear you? Because I’m too busy tapping? Knocking? At your door? How do I know? How can I know? Fear. Uncertainty. Doubt.

I stand. Here. At the door. Yours. Knocking. Waiting. Hoping.