Waiting and patience often times go hand in hand. If you’re not patient, you get irate easily when you’re waiting. But if you are the opposite, you wouldn’t mind staring at something for hours.
I fall on the latter part.
Actually, I’m not sure where did I get my patience. My parents don’t have it. My grandparents aren’t like that too. So, I could clearly say I’m not born to be one. Guess I just made myself to tolerate most things.
In college, my peers and alike usually tease me and what not, but I do not mind. I just laugh at them or smile for no reason, knowing that they aren’t serious. My logic tells me why would I take it seriously?
Also, I’ve already experienced waiting for hours. No, I do not mean one or two hours. More often than not, it’s longer than that. I admit sometimes I get impatient if it’s that long but when you see her arriving, hastening her walk rate, sweat falling down on her forehead, then everything fades away.
Why in the heck I’m talking about this? Well, for two consecutive days now I’ve waited until 9 in the evening, when I’m off from work at 6:30 PM, in a mall located somewhere in the Metro. Thank God there’s Powerbooks where I could burn time by leafing through a baseball book. Next thing you know, she’ll text that she’s already near the place.