Waiting. Always waiting…
I hate waiting.
I’ve waited all my life; it’s all I’ve done. Waiting to grow up. Waiting to get my degree. Waiting for my career to start. Waiting to find that special someone. Waiting for, well, life to actually begin for me. Why is that? Why is it that I’ve known people who aren’t waiting, have never waited…
When will we get The Defenders, dammit?!
That isn’t what this is about.
Perhaps I should be grateful for the Wait. It gives me time to think. But I feel trapped, fidgety, anxious. Lonely. Too many unknowns, not enough data. The unknown makes me uneasy. I suppose that makes me normal.
Normal, like the Wait, is so boring.