Saturday, December 15, 2012

In That Coffee Shop

I cannot recall the last time I was left alone to my thoughts. I cannot remember the last time I was comfortable with my being alone. Don't get me wrong, there's a difference between being alone and being lonely. I am, absolutely and undoubtedly alone - nothing more; nothing less. I have been around, seen the world in different perspectives - met people I never fathomed I would, been to places I never thought would be possible for me to reach, and I might have fallen in-love with an idea of a possibility that never could be.

Possibly, maybe, I have been in denial whenever I forthrightly express how happy I am - then again, as I step back and see where my reality has taken me, I do not sense a single manifestation of sadness, anguish, or pain. I am free. My free spirit and my existence took me to the path that lead me to people and places that I have come to embrace; I am grateful for the genuine love and respect I have been experiencing. 

...But today, my soul yearns to go back and live my being alone. 

I shall read an unconventional book in a quiet corner; somewhere in an unfamiliar place where there is no but slightly chance that anybody would recognize me. I shall sit here with this  unremarkable and commercialized cinnamon roll accompanied by another yet preserved raspberry juice. I smell that soothing aroma of coffee and feel the romanticism until it lasted. I settle down - get lost in the book while hours of the day goes on. Page 1, 2, ... 79. This book is exceptional - the art of doing business and understanding money. I needed to know more, I thirst for the peculiar words and thoughts it has to offer. 

Despite my fascination, in a split second, I was caught in an involuntary act of glancing at you. It seems as you have been there for a while and my senses felt how you have been staring at me since then. I catch your eye and to your surprise, you look away. You seem familiar, I may have seen you before. It does not matter - I am here to be alone and it shall stay that way. It makes me uncomfortable how I can see you stare and fidget as if you had some kind of agenda you wanted to protest. I could not concentrate on my book - I felt like a performer in a spotlight being watched with every gesture I make. Its time to go. 

I close my book and carefully stuff my bag with my ancient yet essential music player, cellular phone, and  pink pen. I can see you fidgeting even more as I get up and walk towards the direction of the exit which is yours. You have eyes that make me see a kind heart, you are reading a law book which makes me see your intelligence - you let out a seemingly awkward smile as I catch your eye for the second time. 

I'm sorry. In this moment all I ever want is to embrace my person - it is the wrong time and the wrong place. 

Maybe some other time - maybe never. 

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