Waiting

They say waiting serves a noble purpose...

That noble purpose is unknown.

Waiting is an art for the patient, for those who were chosen, for those who believe, for those who have faith, for those who really have strong faith in something. But they are only few.

When we wait, we expect something to happen, something to appear, someone to arrive, somebody to become, we wait for a dream to come true, a goal to be realized, an ambition to be fulfilled.

But what do we gain when we wait? Time trickles, tickles, moments we lose, in anticipation of a future realization of whatever promises were made. Environment beckons us to change our minds, to make a detour, to change careers, move to another place, let go, or hold on.

When emotions are laid to dormance and we idly or hardworkingly wait for a point in time, a significant milestone, a time to happen, a story to begin, we lose something in the march of holding back and holding on. Sometimes, emotions go stale, frustration seeps in, disappointment lurks, hope afloats, prides deflate, necks crane, shoulders bend. Our minds wander and fear envelops us leading us to believe that maybe it will not happen, maybe by that time, love has ceased to exist. Love has been abandoned.

Sometimes I speak in rhetorics, other times I get confused with my own words, I get misconstrued. Maybe because I have a way of hiding behind my own sentences.

Who was it who said, that love and intellect are two things that react so contratrily towards one treatment or interaction. Intellect, when you keep it, it rots, goes to waste and you will lose it forever. Every moment you keep something to yourself, an idea, a notion, a thought, when you hide it, it will leave you, it will disappear, it will lose its luster. But love, if you keep it, it becomes stronger with time, more fervent when not let out, more passionate when given time to grow. I am not about to refute that, but the thing about love and waiting is that, we should never let the ones we care about wait for so many things because every moment is precious.

Given an example, my first boyfriend has always wanted to get married. But I had so many excuses, I was too young, I still had to achieve so many things, I still want to travel, I still want to buy a house... So he got married to a friend of mine. I asked him why? He said because he couldnt wait and he has waited long enough and still didn't know if I will marry him. Its not that I have regrets, it is just an example. I have travelled, I have almost (soon) bought a house (I just need to finish paying it) and I have achieved most of the things I wanted to achieve. My life would have been alternatively different if I have rushed into something that I was not sure about. Sometimes waiting has a meaning.

At present, my love waits for the right time, the right circumstances, or probably the right person. It is always difficult to distinguish, specially now that we have grown older and more mature.

Inside me, like most women, some would just be too proud to admit it, (I wouldn't blame them because I am like that most often too) but there are fairytales inside us that live. Okay, not with the golden slippers, or the sleeping beauties, or the beasts (well, the beasts do exist a lot often in this part of the world), or the seven dwarfs or something like those. But we seek and wait for a guy to send us flowers, declare love forever, the guy who gives us the handkerchief when we cry, the guy who carries us when we fall, the guy who asks out nicely to dinner, the guy we sit and hold hands with, whose eyes we look into over the candlelight, the guy whom we watch sunset with, the guy we hope to grow old with, the normal guy we can go and introduce to our friends to. Why has he become elusive? What we have sometimes are guys that we have flings with and hide with. Seems odd. But lucky are those who are living it and showing it off too.

We keep waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect time, such vague and elusive perfection of the most awaited circumstance. What if that moment doesn't exist? What if that moment will never come? Promises are just words. There are empty promises, those that people say just about everyday, there are banal promises that we use to keep or let people go, and there are broken promises, those that which hurt the most. There are also prognostications that we almost believe it and keep us gripping on to something, to someone. They sometimes seem true. But what if they are not and will not be?

I still don't know. Maybe I will never know. Time just rots me away and I cannot live, will not live, until the time I will die, because I have been waiting for you.