The Waiting
Silence stretched longer than it should have been,
one unread message echoing too loud.
My heart learned a new rhythm—
deg-deg, counting imagined mistakes.
Thoughts ran wild, barefoot and reckless,
jumping to conclusions I never meant to build.
Guilt knocked softly, then harder,
whispering: You did something wrong.
Minutes felt heavier than hours,
each second asking the same cruel question.
Why no reply? Why this quiet?
Why does waiting feel like confession?
Then—
a vibration.
A name.
A reply.
Just now. Barusan.
Relief poured in without warning,
like air rushing back into lungs
that forgot how to breathe.
I laughed at my own panic,
swore at my own heart.
How fragile it is,
how dramatic, how human.
The storm dissolved into calm,
the mind returned from everywhere.
Nothing was broken after all—
only a lesson in waiting,
and how deeply I care.
