An Unpleasant State of Being

Someone is watching from behind a tree. I stare from my hiding place without moving, until my eyeballs harden, until I'm not longer sure he's seen me. What's he waiting for? In the last possible moment before I have to run, light coming fast, I discover I've been held prisoner half the night by a tree, its dead, dense bole carved by moonlight.

(from Fugitive Pieces, Anne Michaels) 

 Here's today's confession: I am bad at waiting. I am incredibly impatient. I can't function when I'm waiting for something. For me, waiting is akin to the sensation of holding your breath for an extended period of time. I can't accomplish anything substantial because my focus keeps drifting to whatever it is I'm waiting for. It's like part of me is frozen, just standing there, completely useless. And then the other half of me is frantically scrambling around. That's why this quote from Fugitive Pieces came to mind. That complete stillness accompanied by frantic mental scrambling is exactly what I feel like when I'm waiting. Right now I'm waiting for something big and it's like I'm afraid that if I move it will evaporate into thin air. And so here I am, frozen in this, the most unpleasant state of being.