It’s 11:30 in the morning as I am sitting here on a bench in our hangout place. I feel extremely hungry as I write this (so much for missing out on breakfast). “Why don’t you just eat already?” you might ask. Nope, not just yet. Remember how you asked me last night if we could have lunch the next day in which I enthusiastically gave out a “yes?”
I can’t eat yet even if my stomach is boisterously growling even louder than the electric fan. I can’t eat yet even if I cannot focus on what I am supposed to be doing now. I can’t eat yet even if I really want to. I cannot eat yet even if I already could because I’m waiting for you. Holding on to your
stupid words. Trusting your words that you would come for me even if you didn’t make anything finite–not letting me know about the details of when, where, and what time exactly this lunch will be. But here I am still waiting… for you.
It’s already 12:10 in the afternoon and you’re still nowhere in sight. Will you just let me die of starvation while having me wait on you to come around?
P.S. I could’ve died waiting for you but you didn’t even give me any sign of concern of whatever. That says a lot. Thanks. Bye.