Waiting for the girl.
Tell me you don’t think about it, every single day. Tell me you are too focused on your career, or your friends or your family to concern yourself with such things. Tell me that standing at your kitchen sink eating takeout out of a cardboard container after a twelve hour work day is enough for you. Tell me that your bed isn’t always cold and that your books and your 60 inch flat screen are all you need. Tell me that you like your space and have no time to be lonely.
Tell me that you’re not just biding your time until you find her. The girl who will be your moon and fucking stars. Someone you can wake up to, other than your own reflection. Tell me you’re not waiting. Waiting for the one who will make life worth something. Something more than this. Tell me you don’t think about it every single day. Tell me, and I won’t believe you.
I don’t think about it, every single day. I don’t have time for such things, I’m too focused on my career, my friends, my family. She doesn’t cross my mind when I’m standing at the sink, eating the same old takeout out of the same old cardboard container after a twelve hour work day. My bed never seems to get cold, and there’s always something to read or something to watch when I find myself bored. I like my space, this freedom. Who even has time for loneliness?
I’m not just biding my time until I find her, I don’t need a moon or stars, I’ve got my own center, my own light, my own gravity. I don’t need anyone or anything to wake up to except the same exhausting alarm every single morning. I’m not waiting. I’m not waiting. I’m not fucking waiting. I’m content. I’m full. I’m happy. I don’t think about it every single day. I don’t, you have to believe me.