The Waiting Room
What is The Waiting Room? I visualise a big, bright, white and clinical looking room. There is a long and seemingly endless corridor with nice white stools lined up against the wall. People like me, dressed in loose white comfortable robes are seated in a line. I am waiting to be diagnosed, waiting to be told my remedy. A solution to ease my heartaches and troubles perhaps. The line is really long and I don’t know when my turn will be…still I wait, because waiting is not difficult. Waiting doesn’t hurt, it just makes you feel helpless. Yet waiting can be a consolation, sometimes I think that if I wait long enough, I will reach the head of the line and somehow I will be in safe hands. I will have a solution, I won’t feel so terrible anymore.
At times I look out of the window and see happy people running around outside. “You shouldn’t wait here, you should do something, be like us!” they shout. I smile and leave the wait. I go out of the room and I try to do things like them but I can’t be like them. Confused and disappointed, I go back to the waiting room again. But I gave up my stool earlier on so someone else came and took it. Now I am at the back of the line again. I am really helpless because I can’t be like the people outside and I don’t know how long I have to wait inside. Every now and then I hear the voices outside again. I go out, fail and come in again. With every re-entry into the waiting room, I feel that I am drifting further away from my own salvation.
The waiting room. A refuge in the form of solitude, where uncertainty becomes a familiar assurance and where waiting seems like the only thing to do.
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