Waiting-- and in between.

Waiting-- wey-ting
 noun. A period of waiting; pause, interval, or delay
 verb. To remain inactive or in a state of repose, as until something expected happens; to look forward to something eagerly.

Waiting as a noun seems very simple. A pause that can be played anytime. An interval that needs a little patience. A delay that requires a bit of understanding. Easy.

As a verb, waiting means more than the simple things. Why not simple?

To remain inactive. It means waking up to a quiet morning, and sobbing up my head underneath the sheets for another hour or two. It means summing up all the positions I can have at the sofa while I try my best to focus on the fifth movie of the day. It's listening to a song on auto repeat for hours. It's sitting at the dining table, chewing slowly, till the food is cold. It's wanting to leave, but the only option is to stay.

It's a state of repose, but the moments in between the waiting is actually agitating. When it's still and quiet, it's the time when my mind can't be at peace. Sometimes, faking a busy mode just makes me feel a little more restless. Thoughts of everybody near and far, of feelings suppressed, of the past, of tomorrow, of the days after today. It's closing the eyes but heavily breathing at worries, expecting of something to happen but not really knowing if it will.

It's looking forward to something eagerly, with a heart not really believing what is to come because it is afraid to be disappointed. It's a risk of anticipating something that might not happen or come. And, of course, the danger of stupid fall if my try becomes a failure.

Waiting is absolutely distressing, inconvenient, and annoying. I hope I don't get used to it, or it will drag me into a kingdom of isolation.


Prayers.