to alleviate my bouts of insomia, i find that i have to indulge my wanderlust... lately i have been having a rather intimate affair with the road. the destination of course being not so much of a concern as the feeling of flight itself. i long for anonymity.. what better way to achive it than to eradicate my my face, my thoughts, my whole self in a sea of faces and be empty myself?
i have been hanging around a certain starbucks branch somewhere in the south. in hopes that the aroma of coffee and dim lights conspire to deliver a certain someone into view. everytime i stay for 3 hours (a glaring idiosyncracy of my wanderlust) regardless of whether i have something more important to do at home or not. If he is Sacrifice personified then i am Guilt with no possibility of redress. i stare at my cafe mocha or mocha frap (order depends on my mood) in my depression. as the starbucks logo starts to haze, my original desperation wanes, loses its strenth and soon, all that is left is melancholy. and as time ticks closer to my 3 hour quota, i find my melancholy grow more and more beautiful. i have spent 3 years of my life with someone i wish unnamed and as i sit facing three empty chairs and my lonely cup, i realize that the stated years are more attractive in retrospect than they were when i was living them. now, what was tiring has left, and only beauty remained.
time ticks closer to 9:15... soon i'll be heading home again. my journey always in vain.