Waiting to no end

I’ve been waiting for some time now for something to happen. But nothing has. And each time I near the end of journey, I chastise myself for ever expecting something to happen. Nothing will happen. And even if some glimmer eases onto the horizon, nothing will happen. I will watch it glow steadily, and then it flounders and floats away. Why is it do I still keep waiting for something to happen, and then feel upset when nothing does? Fate does not appear so kindly to the indolent.

The other day, I bumped into a person whom I thought always took a slight notice of me – and I must be mad for thinking this – for whenever I looked at her, she always seemed to have just thrown her gaze off me. And again, I must be mad for thinking this, or otherwise have been intoxicated by a short-lasting surge of confidence. We met at the doorway, she was moving a chair, and I thought to help her, but realised she didn’t need it, so I just stood there, looking at her for a moment. Then, she looked up and apologised for blocking the path. I smiled and walked past her, and that was the end of it. I know, it’s terribly stupid, and should never be thinking again that people notice me. I am but the tail of a stray gust.


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