#waitinggame - Hello Poetry

“I joined for adventure… turns out it’s mostly waiting around in uncomfortable places.” That’s the truth of it— not the posters, not the stories told down the pub, not the bright edge of glory we thought we were stepping into. I remember the waiting most. Not the marches, not the noise, not even the ache— but the waiting. Sitting on cold ground, back against a pack, boots damp, hands numb, eyes scanning nothing in particular while time stretched longer than the horizon. We thought adventure would be constant— movement, purpose, direction. But more often, it was silence between orders, a pause no one explained. “Stand by.” “Wait out.” “Not yet.” And so, we did. We waited in fields, on ranges, on foreign soil where the air felt sharper— snow beneath us on mountain exercises, skis biting into slopes we’d never imagined back when we first signed on. Those were the moments we remembered— the peaks, the movement, the stories. But they were only pieces. Because in between them was the stillness. The uncertainty. The quiet question none of us quite voiced— what are we actually here for? We followed orders without the full picture, played our part without seeing the whole. Just lads doing as we were told, trusting there was something bigger beyond what we could see. And there was. It just took years to understand. Years to see how the waiting mattered— how patience was part of the training, how discipline wasn’t just in action, but in holding steady when nothing seemed to happen. Now, looking back, the discomfort fades, the waiting softens— and what’s left is something clearer. We were being shaped not just for the moments of action, but for everything in between. “I joined for adventure…” And I got it— just not in the way I expected.

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Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 4:26 AM UTC

ThePoppiesStillBloom

Waiting for the Adventure

“I joined for adventure… turns out it’s mostly waiting around in uncomfortable places.” That’s the truth of it— not the posters, not the stories told down the pub, not the bright edge of glory we thought we were stepping into. I remember the waiting most. Not the marches, not the noise, not even the ache— but the waiting. Sitting on cold ground, back against a pack, boots damp, hands numb, eyes scanning nothing in particular while time stretched longer than the horizon. We thought adventure would be constant— movement, purpose, direction. But more often, it was silence between orders, a pause no one explained. “Stand by.” “Wait out.” “Not yet.” And so, we did. We waited in fields, on ranges, on foreign soil where the air felt sharper— snow beneath us on mountain exercises, skis biting into slopes we’d never imagined back when we first signed on. Those were the moments we remembered— the peaks, the movement, the stories. But they were only pieces. Because in between them was the stillness. The uncertainty. The quiet question none of us quite voiced— what are we actually here for? We followed orders without the full picture, played our part without seeing the whole. Just lads doing as we were told, trusting there was something bigger beyond what we could see. And there was. It just took years to understand. Years to see how the waiting mattered— how patience was part of the training, how discipline wasn’t just in action, but in holding steady when nothing seemed to happen. Now, looking back, the discomfort fades, the waiting softens— and what’s left is something clearer. We were being shaped not just for the moments of action, but for everything in between. “I joined for adventure…” And I got it— just not in the way I expected.

66

There are moments when time slows to a crawl — and every tick feels heavier than the last. While studying for an exam that refuses to end. When you miss someone so badly it hurts just to breathe. When your friend suddenly goes offline and silence takes their place. When you wait endlessly for someone who hasn’t arrived yet. When your favorite show or match hasn’t started, but your excitement already has. When the classroom feels like a prison, and the end bell feels miles away. Some seconds stretch like lifetimes — teaching us how heavy longing, boredom, and anticipation can really be.

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Jul 2, 2025

Jul 2, 2025 at 7:58 AM UTC

Arna_writes

Moments When Every Second Feels Like Hours

There are moments when time slows to a crawl — and every tick feels heavier than the last. While studying for an exam that refuses to end. When you miss someone so badly it hurts just to breathe. When your friend suddenly goes offline and silence takes their place. When you wait endlessly for someone who hasn’t arrived yet. When your favorite show or match hasn’t started, but your excitement already has. When the classroom feels like a prison, and the end bell feels miles away. Some seconds stretch like lifetimes — teaching us how heavy longing, boredom, and anticipation can really be.

10

Your absence is too loud Too loud that it distracts me The distraction is consuming me Consuming my energy Please **** the silence Speak, say something I have been waiting Every bits of time, I check What is beyond this box? I stare at it just in case I catch you By the time I have come back Oh yes, you've seen it?! My stories are waiting And so are my questions Should I live with your mysteries? Or should I pour in the emotions? In case you don't know Your silence is already killing me Don't let me wait for too long This heart can only survive for a time

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Dec 19, 2018

Dec 19, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC

NPt

Chat Box

Your absence is too loud Too loud that it distracts me The distraction is consuming me Consuming my energy Please **** the silence Speak, say something I have been waiting Every bits of time, I check What is beyond this box? I stare at it just in case I catch you By the time I have come back Oh yes, you've seen it?! My stories are waiting And so are my questions Should I live with your mysteries? Or should I pour in the emotions? In case you don't know Your silence is already killing me Don't let me wait for too long This heart can only survive for a time

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