A Question on Mochas

IMG_1098I cripple myself, over situations and things someone else I envy could forget immediately after they happened. How can I order at this cafe, oh God, where is the line, is this the line, okay the barista smiled, everything is okay, wait what do I want, oh no, why am I shaking, there’s someone behind me, just order the first thing that comes to your head, get this over with, a mocha please. Always a mocha. Even if I didn’t want a mocha, it’s always a mocha. So I’ll wait patiently for my mocha, pretending to text someone just to avoid eye-contact with the barista but in reality I’m just refreshing some social media feed thinking breathe, just breathe, over and over and over again. Some think  I’m on my phone too much, that I can’t be present, but I’m too present, which is why I need my phone in my hand. Or anything in my hand. A book, a puzzle, a pencil, my boyfriend’s hand. Anything, anything to keep my mind quiet. If I didn’t have my phone, I would be crying after I ordered that mocha, because I stumbled over please and didn’t have my money out before I got there and so I had to stand there, alone, while the barista looked at me and I felt one thousand imaginary thoughts go from their head to my heart. None of that is happening, but I convince myself it is. When I want to feel, to write, to let myself cry, I go away from all those things, and poetry comes out. But I cannot let it flow constantly, the waves would drown me. But everyday, every visit, every caffeinated beverage, it is getting easier. Today I ordered an iced latte.

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