Waiting

May 27, 2016

White Haven Beach (Queensland, Australia)

I’ve had to wait for the bus, a waiter/waitress, a seat, a response, the perfect time to leave a conversation, etc.

I’ve had to wait for death several times, too. I’m tired of it. You grow up when you learn what that means, and I hope some get to escape that kind of knowledge.

I built walls once, to cope with the first gaping hole, and I guess after the years went on I never took them down. They started as partitions but transformed into fortresses. In my defense I hardly think I got a fair chance to dismantle them. Pun intended. Somewhere in my mind I resolved that emotion is weakness. There are different kinds of mourners, but if I was to be one I would be the one who could do what frenzied emotions cannot, namely offer fortitude and help. I refused to be impaired and add to the problem because emotions are reckless and untrustworthy.

And so here I am. Blank. Subconsciously processing and preparing. Waiting. Again.

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