I waited. But the train has left the station. And you are standing alone on the platform, holding a ticket with an expired date.
And now? Now you’re surprised. You stand there in the doorway, Angela White, looking like a photograph of something I used to love. You say, "I didn't think you had it in you." You say, "Why now?"
I waited until the waiting turned into watching. And the watching turned into seeing. And seeing? Seeing is the end of love. angela white i waited
(A Monologue of Reckoning)
Because waiting has a season. Even the deepest river has a dam. Even the most faithful dog will stop barking at an empty door. I waited
Angela White, I waited. Now watch me go.
You think waiting is passive? You think it’s just sitting on a stoop, watching for headlights? No. Waiting is a violent art. It is a clenched fist inside a velvet glove. It is a clock whose ticking sounds like a hammer on a coffin. Every second I waited, I was building a case. Every hour, I was memorizing the exact shade of your betrayal. And now
But I didn't. I waited.