I wait, waiting for something to happen.
I'm not sure what.
Anything would be nice. I'm just waiting.
It seems boring. Useless. Wasteful, even to wait for this, but it's all I have left.
What else is there to wait for?
How long can I wait?
Nothing ever happens. And I want to break the pattern, see the tide stopped and sun rise in the west,
read a book backwards and have it make sense.
I want to get younger as I age, do more than everyone else.
Then, as I wait for the impossible, I stand up, done with waiting.
I'll do it myself.
I'm sick of waiting for Impossibility knock on the door, helping me on the way to freedom and greatness.
So I'll go knock down Impossibility's door myself, because why can't I? Why can't I go do the things I've dreamed about? What's stopping me?
Nothing is, the answer comes to mind, and I walk out of the house of waiting and into the street of life.