I wait for your messages at night. I used to wait for those messages during the day, but those stopped arriving a long time ago. It took two years for me to not expect them.
Not just one night. It’s night after night. These thirty seven nights have felt like an eternity for someone to simply wait. Yes, I have been counting.
I still message and stare; awaiting a reply. None have arrived thus far. And, I wait.
As a reader, I know what is going through your mind; what a poor soul, blinded by desperation and unable to comprehend when he isn’t wanted; a natural progression, or deterioration of sorts.
It’s not the waiting. It’s not the late nights and blank stares. It’s more. It’s the desire to hold close what you cannot. In the absence of replies, the conversations we would have are now imagined.
It’s more than waiting. I have the same conversations we would have, just on my own now.
Soon, night thirty eight shall be upon us.
I shall wait.”
Navin E. (still waiting)