Waiting.

I sit here.
Staring at the ceiling. It’s a white ceiling. Completely boring.
And boring becomes a nightmare, so cold and unreal.
I stare and continue to sit here. Aware that I am nothing.
If I stay here long enough, maybe I’ll disappear. Into the floor I’ll go. Melting away with the time that slips by unnoticed. What dreams turn to black and those nightmares turn to white.
Nothing really matters.
And so I sit here, forever unchanged. Forever waiting.
Forever.

I could sit here. Waiting. I'm quite patient, regardless of the twitching of muscles. 
I feel like I've been waiting forever. For my turn.
Just for my turn.
And that waiting gets harder and harder as the days go by. As the months cross into years. 
Sometimes waiting becomes this normalized task.

But, I'm tired of waiting. 
I want to grasp that future I see so clearly in my head. 
Is it possible? Can I dig my heels in?
Can I heart soar to the heights it desires?

I am here, waiting. But, I'm done waiting.

I just want to move forward.