Perpetual Waiting


As I sit here writing, I am waiting.

Waiting for my shift to end,

Waiting for the sun to set,

Waiting for the boy I like to text me first.

Trivial things that don't really matter much in the grand scheme of things.


But there is still so much more that I sit thinking about, waiting for.

I sit waiting to make more than 77 cents to every dollar a man makes.

I sit waiting to actually be able to afford college.

And I sit waiting for a connection.

Waiting to be understood, waiting to make a move, waiting to FEEL.


Is this what being a teenager is supposed to be like?

Are you supposed to feel so out of control, so uncertain?

Invincible yet so painfully aware of the impending doom that accompanies the short lives of humans,

It's as if an existential crisis is around every corner.


I am sitting, waiting, to maybe finally understand.

To understand why we must hate each other enough to fight massive wars,

Even though those outsiders, those people who are so different from us share 99.9% of the same DNA.

To understand why people obsess over getting to Heaven, when this world, this world all around us right now, is such an amazing place.

To understand why this magical, mystical world feels so full of possibilities one second and then full of despair and pain the next. 

It baffles me endlessly.

And so I sit, waiting. 


I sit waiting and wonder. 

I wonder how do I even begin to live in this absurd and deadly world?

I wonder will I even be able to understand my life and what I, as a person must do for it?

I wonder and fear that sitting and waiting is no way to accomplish anything at all.

Yet, what else can I do?


So as I sit, writing and wondering and waiting, I decide something.

I decide that there is no way to ensure your happiness or to ensure your place in this world.

And so instead of waiting and hoping that everything will eventually make sense,

I decide to try.




Try to understand and try to connect and try to FEEL.

Because if we don't try, what else can we do?


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