Impatience

I am. . .impatient. . .to most; not to all. I can't stand to wait, so often I sit down for it. I wait on you, I wait on them, I wait on me. For what? I haven't the slightest idea, but I have grown impatient from waiting on it. I am looking for the next best thing; the next big thing and I know it hasn't come to me yet because I'm not moved yet. And so, I sit here, impatiently waiting on what will undoubtedly come. Hopefully it will beat death to me, but I can't be too sure. I just know my blood pressure is getting worse from fingernail biting and anxiety. Calcium and worry don't go together in case you're wonderin'. But I need a release from this bind that forces me to want to rush what's coming to me before it is ready to get to me.

And so self-introspect has only created more self-introspection. Prayer has only created more praying. Hope has only created more longing. And waiting has only created more impatience. I don’t want to be this way, but I cannot help it. For anyone whom has said ‘time’ is not real, has not wanted badly enough.

Time is the referee between two boxers. I am boxing against patience. And right now, he is winning. He is dictating the fight with measured jabs and terrific clock management. He has trained for this fight better than I have. My impatience never wants me to fight for something more than 1 or 2 rounds. So I come out swinging hoping for the knockout. But alas, when that ‘thing’ does not come so easily, I can be frustrated. I can lose. I become another notch on my opponent’s belt. I become. . .impatient.

And though I know that all good things come to those who wait, I long for those good things to come to those who have waited. I have waited; impatiently. But I have waited. I am tired of not knowing what it is I’m suppose to know about this life; this living. I wish to be satiated and no longer look to create the plans that add another 24 hours of age to me. I want to know unequivocal love. But I guess. . .first. . .I need to know patience. I am. . .impatient.