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I wanted to call you and tell you about how well I did yesterday.

How well I'm doing now.

And I want to dial your number.

Or accidently use the speed dial on my cell phone.

But then I would have nothing to say.

I would know that I shouldn't be calling.

That there is so much context you would be missing.

A whole life here that you wouldn't understand.

I could send you a letter with everything that I have wanted to say.

But that would be selfish.

And not utimately satifying.

Sending my letter into some vague oblivion.

Attention? or maybe true love.

All he knows is that he's heard it before.

And although she is not as good, or interesting, or match.

he is happy.

Waiting is life's torture.

Because waiting never really means anything. Sometimes.

I wait for something to happen. If it happens.

It will happen or not happen.

But we all wait anyway.

We all sit and hope and waste away.

I'm always wasted.