I am sick of waiting. Yes, sick and absolutely tired of that dissident term, waiting. I am never one of patience, one who is that accommodating, that enduring, or that composed. Given a choice, I'd rather busy myself pacing up and down the room and getting all flustered up than to sit still, hands crossed on my lap, in that totally poised posture. And this explains my dissatisfaction at having to wait for a response.
You know if you've kept me waiting, kept me in the dark, kept me guessing away like some demented fool. Oh please, say what you have to, acknowledge my fears or confirm my conjectures. Be true, be honest with me. Why bother hiding away under the guise of your shyness, or putting things off day after day? If you have something to say, then say it. Quit beating about the bush or dropping subtle hints and expecting me to get what you mean, or making half-statements that do not portray what you intended to get across. Of course, I could jolly well hang you from the ceiling, all tied up and whip you to get those words out. But then, that is not proper decorum, and is totally unbecoming of an educated young lady.
So, why make things difficult for the both of us. Can't you say what you really mean, that you do or you do not. I'm not that unreasonable, or that demanding to command an answer straight away. Take time off, think things through. Then, tell me what you want. A couple of weeks is fine, but do not expect a time grace of months or years. There is no point in wasting our youth, both mine and yours, when out there, opportunities are aplenty. I think you get what I mean.