and if you think about it, we are all waiting for something. for a boyfriend or a husband to call. for the weekend. for a cab or a train or a plane. for a baby, for the flowers we planted last month to fight their way into life.
and the fact that i am not alone in this should make me feel better, but it depresses the hell out of me. it is spring, and this sense of monotony makes me ache. the days bleed so thoroughly into the other that they blur. it gets hard to distinguish one from the other.