17NOVEMBER2007
09:59 AM

She waits. She knows that all it is is a futile attempt. she knows it is hopeless, that it was never meant to be,. In fact, he was not made to be what she hopes and whole-heartedly wishes for him to be. And yet she waits.
She longs for an embrace, a touch, a kiss that will fill her heart with the satisfaction which constantly eludes her grasp. She knows he is not the man who can end her suffering, yet she waits. Patiently, enduring pain of the knowledge that no matter how she wills for him to be the man she needs him to be that he will never be that man. Never.
Try as she may, she can never understand this emptiness that fills her heart, her very being. Its constant presence frightens her. Nothing was, is, and will never be enough to take the place of the emptiness that oh so comfortably resides inside.
So she waits.
"I shouldn't be doing this," she says to herself. "He is not for me, and I, myself, am not at liberty to be pursuing him in the first lpace. I have someone now and he should be enough."
But that someone is not enough. For some reason, he just can't be enough. "Am I that selfish that I want to satisfy my hunger for this satisfaction I so fervently seek? Or is it greed that urges me to act like I do?"

...

I look for answers yet all I come up with are even more questions. I am distraught and I am empty. So I will wait.
I will wait.