Its 3am. I'm watching Wings alone in my room. I took me until I wrote that sentence to realize how lame this is. I could be at a party. But I left. I could be downstairs writing letters and talking But I'm not.
Antisocial? Maybe. I dunno. I'm content with being alone, but part of me keeps hoping (insert almost any male's name here) would call me. But what for? Its 3am, its not like I would want to talk, or watch tv or a movie or something. I'd much rather be sleeping, but for some reason I keep hoping for something to happen–if you figure out what that something is, let me know, cause I'm still trying to figure it out.
And by the way, I think I've got it figured out what I want/need. But of course, God doesn't work as fast as I want him to. So I'm stuck trying to be patient and waiting. Its the waiting thats the worst part. In the end it'll be worth it. I just have to keep convincing myself over and over and over and over again of this.
You're right, I am being vague.