|
Waiting
The story of my life could be summed up in one general statement: I'm waiting. The direct object of that waiting, however, is variable and greatly unknown, ranging anywhere from financial stability to wistful, romantic projections. The harsh incandescence illumaniates the library where I write this entry, naturally while waiting. As much as I attempt to wretch my grip, painfully, from the steering wheel of life, the sensible Chris consistently intervenes, soft voice subtly grating: "Straightforward, comfortable, stable." He gently removes the nervous, cold fingers that have gripped the helm and holds them until they warm to a morose beige. Calmed and steadied, I continue to type. The waiting is now over. Or is it?
|
