Waiting

The days pass with the kind of aching slowness that makes me doubt mankind's true understanding of Earth's rate of revolution in space.

Why does it feel like I am always waiting?

For the end of the work day. For Friday afternoon happy hour. For that phone call. For something to change. 

Do the changes happen deep inside me, on a scale so small and slowly moving that I cannot perceive them? I try so hard to change and grow and get better every day. I so try. But sometimes I swear it feels like my shoes and hands are glued to a treadmill and someone thought it would be funny to unplug it and watch me struggle.
....

I just want my heart to feel alive again.