I am of those people who still believe in the existence of love.
Not in a hopeless romantic way, but in a very painfully realistic way.
And as imperfect as I know I am; I am very picky about this significant other, who’s supposed to love me for who I am.
You could say that I am quite the hypocrite. And I would say you’re quite right.
These visions that I have of love, however, may sound like I am okay with the wait. Well, I’m not. Not at all.
I am tired, and bored, and disappointed with the wait. I am almost done.
“So don’t let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night”