Wasted Seconds

I shouldn't be sitting here and doing this to myself. It's unhealthy. My thought processes are truly abnormal. For five and a half months I've wanted this to happen. Now that it has, I can't seem to make myself say the words that have been mulling around in my mind for twenty-two weeks.

I should go for it, I know, but somehow it doesn't feel right. Not yet. I know that I'm just making excuses because I'm afraid. I'm really frightened. I don't like the idea of being rejected. I don't like the idea of losing him even as a friend. But honestly, would I rather sit here, wondering what it could be like?

Is it really normal to want him to make the first move? When you consider the fact that they just broke up only hours ago, I guess my reservations could be considered natural. He's probably not ready for anything yet. Or maybe I'm not ready.

They should have a manual for this kind of thing. How long do I have to wait? Is he really over her? Is she over him? What would she do if she weren't? Why do I feel like such a jerk?

Comprehending the fact that I have no control over my heart did not make me feel any less guilty. I wanted it to happen from the start. I waited and waited for them to break up. I don't have regrets about my actions though. I didn't act immature to either of them, despite what happened to my heart when I saw them together.

Honestly, I wish there was no waiting period with this kind of thing. I've already waited for long enough. I have waited for one hundred and fifty-two days. Each and every one I wondered whether or not they were still together.

Three thousand six hundred and forty-eight hours spent waiting for just one chance.

It took two hundred eighteen thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes for their relationship to end.

I have spent thirteen million, one hundred thirty-two thousand eight hundred seconds with my heart crushed.

Suddenly, and slowly I am being rebuilt. And with my new heart, grows a conscience. All of the sudden, instead of wishing with every fiber of my being for them to be apart, I feel bad for them. I didn't know how special their relationship was, not really. But I did know that she brought something to his presence that made me smile as well as pained me. I know that he changed her. The wounds caused from a loss like that take time to heal. Just because he was the one that broke up with her doesn't mean that he's okay.

I know in my heart that it will happen if it's right, but part of me can't understand why I would spend so many tears on him if it weren't meant to be. I don't ever want to understand the logic behind it, not in depth anyways. It completely takes the magic out of it. I believe in fate, destiny, even karma. I'll get what I deserve when it's meant to be. Who knows, maybe this was just a very powerful lesson.

So now, here I sit, painfully aware of his presence beside me. I refuse to look at him for fear of uttering foolish words. So instead I watch the flames devour the log in the fireplace, surrounded by classmates I barely know. I realize how close his hand is to mine, supporting his leaning frame on the hard wood floor, listening to someone drone on about the magic of rhythm.

There is no way that I could know the thoughts that were going on in his head. But Icould swear that I felt him looking at me, and at that moment, I was confident that we were meant to be.

A/N- uhh, well, just something I got inspiration for while I was at orientation camp (yes, pretty true story…all the time i.e. days, hours, minutes etc is true). Other than that it's pretty self-explanatory…let me know what you guys think of the title…it took me a while to come up with something! Thanks for reading!