I remember sitting there, waiting, always waiting. Music would be blaring, people would be dancing, and I had once been on the floor as well. But when I was tired, I’d sit. I’d watch. I’d wait.

For what? For someone to ask me on the floor? They do. My girlfriends at least. With gleeful smiles, they’d reach for my hand and pull me up before I could even give them permission to.

But I still feel hollow. Still expectant, and almost empty. That wasn’t to say I didn’t love the company of who I was already with. But unmet expectation was always met with unsatisfying hollowness.

It had been years, but that feeling of anticipation was coming back. Soon I’d have to face the floor again. Soon I’d be sitting and waiting once more. I’d wonder what I’m waiting for, or who. I’d know the answer, but dismiss it because it’s pointless. The feeling would disappear when I get pulled to the dance floor, but it would always return. Like a boomerang, thrown into the air and made to experience great heights and wind, the feeling always comes back. It makes me wonder how long I’ll have to wait. It makes me question if I will be waiting with unmet expectation forever.

gratuitous emo post. Or GEP. -shot-

Inspired by the fact that I’m going clubbing tonight for the first time. I wonder how that’ll go. orz;