Waiting is a form of looking forward unto something in an unknowing span of time.
There was a girl in a bench under a waiting shed of a bus stop early spring morning with him. They were sitting close but never touching the tips of their clothes. Beside him was a luggage while with the girl was just holding her purse. Minutes pass and still no words were held. Wind blowing and grass dancing were the only on-sight views for them. Neither was staring at each other. Neither one looked even on their sideways looking for a bus or any vehicle that might come. Suddenly, a vendor came in and asking the lady if she wanted a ripe and fresh mango but he lady angled her hand waved to no. And so the vendor pushed his cart toward the road again but the man in the bench halt him saying he wanted two. As soon as the vendor left a loud rushing sound came clearly near them, the man looked on his left side and saw the bus approaching so he held his luggage, fixed his hair and held his gaze to the woman beside her. He put one ripe mango in her lap and gently kissed her lips, then rode the bus that left. The woman still said nothing. After an hour or so the woman decided to stand and walk her way down the road faintly.
Tonight I’ll be pouring my heart out.
Hurdles. Struggles. Pains. Fears. Cries. Anger. Hopes. Disbeliefs. Whining.
There is just too much water running down my system, I wanted to hold your hand, held a gaze and just swim near you. But I guess reality knocks that I’m drowning that even you didn’t saw me fall off the cliff.
Getting used. Cries. Teases. Laughing. Playing. Patting. Chilling. Relaxing. Going out often. Contemplating. Whining.
One day I’ll find my way out of this dark and unknown room. One day I’ll stand out of your shadow. One day I’ll learn struggling without your hands, without your words, without your push. One day I’ll stop believing that you’re going to push hard and break off the door to get me out. One day I’ll figure out how to get out of here on my own. One day I’ll skip thinking how. One day I’ll cry no more. Someday, somehow I’ll gain strength turning back at you and walk down the alley smiling bravely.
Forgetting. Out-wit and out-done the tiring feeling of waiting. Quitting. Firing. Negligence. Stopping. Believe to other things in life. Whining.
I’m not done with this. I’m still undergoing the last stage. When I’m done with everything here I’ll get back to blog again about this topic.
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