Coffeehouse Confessions

Silence. Coffee. Starbucks. What a day it has been. Bonded with the sis earlier at the mall and an early dinner. It's always good to get some sister time that doesn't feel like effort. But of course, like everything else, once there is silence and you have moments all to yourself, reality has a way of smacking you in the face. All is good, but matters of the heart are the hardest to deal with.

I guess the clichéd moment of sitting alone in a coffee shop has happened. Sappy playlist in the headphones are playing away, and I can't seem to put the right words together, because just when someone asks you what's wrong, and no words come out, I guess it's the same when typing. What does one do to mend a broken heart? I wish Frozen's "love thaws a frozen heart" thing would work, but that's not an option; life is not a fairytale, Disney flick, or anything of the sort. Life is not fair, and I think we could all agree to that. Bad things happen to good people, good things happen to bad people, and sometimes we each get what we deserve.

They say things happen for a reason, so as much as I've wondered what could possibly be the reason to all of this? Or why the heck was there something to begin with? I haven't been able to find the answer. I think we all change because of events in our lives or we at least should, and I have. So where's my prize? I guess this one of those moments where I can say, "Life's not fair."

Sometimes I have these unwanted flashbacks, that automatically just glum my day or night. Memories are supposed bring happiness, not sadness or regret. But one thing I have most definitely learned is to smile, smile, smile away even when I could literally collapse and lose it all. Another thing I have also learned is that not everybody gets it. They want to be your friend or lend a listening ear because they care, but the second time you bring it up, they're already fed up and mad at you for even bringing it up. I wonder if people ever think that if it were them it would probably take a while to just go back to being normal. This is why I have become a recluse about my feelings, I feel like I do myself a favor by being the "strong" one, which I'm not by the way, even if I look like it, I'd rather look angry than sad, even if it costs me.

Some new people have come in to the café, and some have left. My drink is barely finished, and as I look out the windows, the noir sky is seen even through the countless streetlights and cars filling the streets. This is one of those moments when a warm bear hug would be appreciated.

What is left to be done? Forget, perhaps? Live everyday as though I was dying, not afraid to do the things that scare me the most. Move on. My heart says no, but my intellect just doesn't know anymore. Coffeehouse confessions, gotta love 'em!