The Waiting Room

I sit here waiting again. I would have said "patiently waiting again", but that would be a lie, I hate waiting. I told her I would wait patiently. What was I thinking? Why did I say that? Does anyone really like waiting rooms? Aren't they the worst rooms ever? Old magazines; usually trashy women's mags filled with "tragic" tales that are supposed to be inspiring. So she beat cancer thanks to the power of love, lucky her. Why am I here? Why am I subjecting myself to this torture of hard plastic seats, linoleum floors and sickeningly bright fluro lights? I just want to go home. Really home. I don't belong here. I belong in a place where I feel safe, where I am not alone, where I am loved and cared for by someone I love and care for. Will I ever have that in my life again? Who likes sitting, waiting, not knowing? Will she even reply? Will we ever meet? Why do I care about someone I haven't even met so much? What The Fuck, is wrong with me? Meh, fuck it. I am out of here...