I hate waiting...

I sit quietly in front of my computer, waiting. I’m nervous. I’m so incredibly tired, and I need to know. My sister is in FL and her father is in the ICU, unconscious and intubated. I’m ready to cry or to be the shoulder to be cried on. But for now… I can do nothing. My phone sits beside me, silent. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve starred at that phone today, eyes fixated on the star-ship Enterprise in its background. I just want a text. I want to know.

While I sit, I realize that much of my adulthood has been like this. Sitting. Waiting. Acting when appropriate and knowing when to pull back. The only issue I take with that is right now, I really want to get on a plane and fly down to FL. What would I do once there? Not a clue. I just want to be there for her. I hate this. Actually… I more than hate this. This situation is heart-wrenching. I can’t imagine how Steve is dealing.

It isn’t for lack of trying that I’m still sitting here. I bought a new book the other day. Just a Geek by my childhood crush, one Mr. Wil Wheaton. His book is a great read and on any other day I would be done with it by now. But today is not that day. I tried writing some fiction. Failed. I’ve been watching Top Chef reruns on and off all day. I’ve been sending her texts on and off, trying not to bother her. I’ve thought about a certain someone, but even those thoughts have been derailed by worry. I paced. For close to an hour, I paced. My house isn’t big enough. That was the only cohesive thought I had managed to pull out of that pacing as well. I have a frenetic sort of energy bubbling up, and spilling out of my fingers. I don’t think writing this will help though. I know that even when I’m done writing this, it won’t be enough.

The phone is still quiet. My aim sits silently, facebook isn’t pinging with conversations. And all I can do is wait.

Fuck.