Tumult of anxiety provoked by waiting
for the beloved being,
subject to trivial delays (rendevous, let-
ters, telephone calls, returns).
...Waiting is enchantment: I have re-
ceived orders not to move.
I am stuck in a holding pattern--I cannot go forward & therefore it feels like my spirit is squelched in some way--maybe it means giving up control & all the anxiety that goes with that. It is exquisitely painful for me. And why am I always the one who waits? What's up with that? Is it that way for most of us--that there's always one who waits for the other? Which brings me to another quote from Barthes:
The necessity for this book is to be found
in the following consideration: that the
lover's discourse is today of an extreme solitude.
Yes, Barthes is correct, these feelings that one has usually occur in solitude; in our minds & nowhere else. The absence of a lover, love, unrequited love, etc.--historically, writings about love are all about that. The waiting (for something to happen or to see the person, e.g.). God, I hate to wait.