Wasted time and fruitless wishes

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

I’ve been waiting my whole life for things to happen.

Yet, dispite me willing things to come to fruition, for some unknown reason, they simply don’t. How unfortunate, right?

I’m sitting here craving a connection, absolutely anything. I wish for someone to text me, to talk to me, to just keep me company. I’m isolated. I’m so fucking cold from this disconnection.

I’m sitting here wanting to do so many things, I want to paint, to draw, to learn to dance or maybe sing. But I just can’t find the effort, or the time. I just can’t find a way to make myself get up and try.

I’m sitting here, in this car, going on a trip around the narrow roads of these hills and mountains. I just sit here, silent. Watching the dash clock’s red glow, entranced as it ticks by. Wishing the dirt would crumble beneath my tires. Wishing the car would roll. Wishing it would tumble down the steep terrain, and crush me where I sit.

I’m sitting here, drunk, at a campfire. Heat searing my face, even as the flames melt into embers. Still, I’m frozen. People chat around me, some even to me. I talk to them, sure, but all we form is some sort of trivial connection. It still isn’t enough.

Why isn’t it enough?

When I wake up. When I’m sober. When I come back to reality...

Nothing has changed.

I’m still me. I’m still waiting.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

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Photo cred. - https://onedio.co/content/15-most-dangerous-roads-to-take-you-to-the-edge-15773