the waiting game

a steady flow of boredom, bordering suffering. a long wait, waiting for our turn in life. for our life to begin. it has to happen to me soon, it must be my turn now! i have been waiting for so long, my life has been so boring, and i have been suffering for so long.

life, boring, suffering, waiting. waiting for my turn to be happy, to have it all.

until then, i work too much, i don't sleep enough, and i eat too much cake. i drink too much wine and i long for cigarettes. they fill up the empty hole inside, the hole that is all that boredom, waiting and suffering, waiting to be filled with happiness. in the meantime, i fill it up. i am a workaholic, an alcoholic, and a sugaraddict, but just for now, while i am waiting.

and when the day of happiness comes, that day when my empty hole inside is filled with love, joy and laughter, that day i will be fulfilled inside and the empty hole will not tear at my soul anymore. that day that i long for, that day which i realise is an illusion, just like this life is. an illusion and a foolishness, a game, played by god, laughing at us fools down here, working, sleeping, waiting in vain, for happiness to come. how foolish and how naive we are, thinking we deserve to be happy!

suffering and longing, waiting and suffering, such is the human state. waiting for the day when all will be bright and filled with smiles, when the hole inside will be content and full, like our stomachs after too much cake. waiting in this steady flow of boredom, we wait for our time in the light, our time at the stage, our life illuminated by the spotlights. and it happens!- and in an instant it is all over again. those flashes, those short moment at the stage of life, never seem to last more than a second, and then we are back at the waiting game again, waiting for happiness to happen. like a drug, we hanker for that one hit of happiness, waiting all our lives for that immediate, all-pervading feeling of contentedness and fulfillment, and then... we are back, longing for it.

like a carpet being pulled out underneath, like lightning striking, bringing the spotlights to an abrupt darkness, pain enters, pain cushes. the waiting game, the hollow insides,
and i fill it with work, wine and cake. and the occasional cigarette..and not enough sleep, as i toss and turn as i anxiously await my turn on stage.