Patience

It's raining out, and I've just returned from an evening out with friends. Two friends, to be exact. Two friends who happen to be in a relationship. I sat all night watching them kiss and canoodle, glorious in their slightly askew relationship. And as much as I hate to be that pathetic single girl sitting among the coupled, I couldn't help it: Feeling like the odd man out, feeling the distinct sense of miss. Like thirst, but insatiable; There isn't enough water in the world to quench my longing for another half. And I know it may sound a bit desperate, perhaps a bit sad, when I say I want someone with whom to share my time...And if I hadn't had a few glasses of wine, I would probably care. But I have had a few glasses of wine, and I don't care how terribly crestfallen it sounds when I say it made me sullen when the two of them retreated to their shared home and I retreated to my empty Queen-sized bed. As much as I wish I didn't, I really want someone to call my own. I'm in a hurry to find him; Groping for him much like a drowning person would gasp for breath.

They say patience is a virtue, but it is a virtue I do not possess.