Waiting copyright © Andi Dawson In the last 15 minutes I have looked at my watch so many times.  I hate waiting, but perhaps you don't know that.  Every night is the same, I sit and wait; you take your time and arrive late.  Each night I hope it will be different, I pray that you will be on time.  It never happens. This evening, I really, really wanted you to be on time.  I've had a very bad day and I really thought maybe you would be kind and get to me when you were supposed to.  I've waited and waited and waited; you're still not here. I often wonder whether you do this on purpose.  I tell myself it's a not your fault and I should remain calm and accept your lateness, but I can't.  I feel agitated, change from sitting to standing and back again.  I cross and uncross my legs and fiddle with my hair.  If there was a medal for 'clock watching', I would win one, but there is no medal, so my impatience is in vain. Waiting for you makes my blood boil, watching others go by makes me want to cry out in frustration.  I bite my lower lip and say my mantra over and over to myself, stay calm, not long to wait, stay calm, not long to wait. I always question whether there's a reason for your lateness, but the answer never satisfies, “The traffic was bad” is the usual excuse.  Truth be told, I don't care what the reason is, it doesn't make me feel any better. I just want you to come, you stupid bus, come and take me home.