Late Night

I sat there on my bed, just waiting for morning. I had a thousand things that I needed to tell you, but you were asleep. So I patienly waited. I hate waiting almost as much as I hate picking a place to start a story. Waiting is awful, you just sit there doing nothing while your mind wander. See for me a wondering mind is not good. When my mind wanders I usually get end up anxious about things that I have no control over. Very rarely I’ll have a great idea. I hate nights like this, where sleep seems impossible. I wonder how I would sleep if you were here beside me providing warmth and comfort. Would I be able to sleep then?

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