Waiting.

Waiting is neither a relaxing or passive affair, in fact, it is far from it. A multitude of scenarios pop into your head, your mind is bombarded by 'what-ifs' and 'what-nots' and all your attention is trained on that single ideal, that single situation in which all your waiting comes to an end. Meanwhile, the fear of its continuity gnaws at you relentlessly, eroding away the boundaries of logic and reason and delving into the chaos that is the emotional universe. The floodgates opened, you lapse into waves of hysteria urged on by boredom's winds. They break near shore, eventually smoothing into a gentle lapping at earth's ankles, a sign of subservience to the stony silence that constitutes this useless but draining activity.

I am going mad waiting, as you can see.