Anticipation

I hate waiting. In a check-out line, in traffic, on the computer. If I have to wait, I get grumpy. Sometimes I get nervous, depending on what I’m waiting on. I’m not as patient a person as I thought I was. At this point, I don’t mind working toward a goal, but some things I just don’t want to wait for.

Waiting for January so I can file for divorce is killing me. I am anticipating that piece of paper as eagerly as I am the fading of the mark on my hand from my wedding bands. I took off those rings after the last big fight (on the phone) back in March ( the day before the anniversary). The lines are still on my hand.

I’m working toward getting on my feet and getting my own place. I’m still impatient but I will work for it. That is really important at this point. I want to be self-sufficient. I don’t want to have no choice but to be dependent on someone else. I want my own place so badly I can smell fresh paint.

It’s like anticipating a first date, the first time you meet someone, a first kiss. Everything you’ve imagined is about to be confirmed or contradicted. Adrenaline is rushing, you can’t sit still, nothing else will pacify the need to get to that destination. The phone rings and you have to hide disappointment that the voice is not who you wanted so desperately to hear. Just the thought of talking to that person makes your entire body tingle.

The passage of time kills me, but I like that tingle…

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