Sometimes there is no more point in waiting, and sometimes you realize that the situation you currently are in is one of those times.
Still, you do nothing to move on, you do nothing to search for options, and you do not look anywhere else but that long stretch of road from where you are expecting something to come. You can walk yourself, but after waiting so long, you probably are sure there is nothing there and this certainty dwindling in a high probability stops you from walking down that road to see for yourself. For then you may know for yourself that there was nothing to be expected, that there was nothing there; whatever it was that you were waiting for was never going to come. You would then look down on all the time that you spent, or now may be you can call it wasted, standing there waiting for it come. You are afraid that this awareness might be a greater pain than the pain of small deaths you die every day, every minute, every second, of waiting in front of this void. You now have seen this void for so long, that you love the void. You sometimes doubt if you are still waiting, or are just comfortable where you are. May be now the void comforts you to a level, that if some day, your wait is replied to, and you see something walk down that path, you might, for a small second feel sad to leave this void.
This is but void, a nothing, a null, a vacuum, but somehow you have started falling for the nothing, more than the something that you were waiting for. Now the wait is just a pretext but not the only reason to stand there; that explains why I don’t move.
Although I am afraid that it can also explain something else. May be the something that I am waiting for has fallen in love with the other end of this void.