Waiting She is always left waiting. Waiting for him to call just so she can hear his voice. Voice, his voice calms her nerves. Nerves about life and not being good enough. Enough, she’s had enough of the waiting. Waiting is not something that she is good at. At this point, she calls him. Him that’s all she wants to hear. Hear him say her name, and him tell her how beautiful she is. Is that really so much to ask? “Ask him if he loves you”, she says in her head. Head, it all in my head, she reminds herself again. Again he sounds irritated. Irritated she called; irritated he didn’t look before answering. Answering the phone when he calls makes her happy. Happy he took the time to call. “Call me later, or actually I will call you” he says monotonously. Monotonously, meaning no passion behind the words. Words mean nothing to her. Her whole life has been full of words that mean nothing. Nothing and nobody mean as much as he does. Does he understand her love? Love that is unconditional because that’s the only love she knows. She knows he doesn’t love her. Her? She can’t stop loving him.
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