month 4. day 8

in her attempt to walk in the sun, she got burned.

 

ive tried for the longest time to find something that gives more ‘sense’ to living and existing.

something that is present just cause it was created and formed and present to be present.

something that just fits.

 

ive been through the highest of highs and lowest of lows and im just tired.

tired of the endlessness of it

wishing that somehow it would just end.

like a denouement regardless of being sudden.

 

today i “vocalized” (cause ive been swirling on the thought of such) that i may be bisexual.

but i wish it (the “vocalization” of such) would have happened in a better state.

 

i have yet to understand this.

 

coffee count: 4

COFFEE COUNT TO DATE: countless.

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month 2. day 9.

there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.

 

currently in transition and lacking luster.

though ive held my head high through the “ordeal” the silence gets to me.

ive been so used to giving up all of me that the slow creeping in of my renewed self scares me.

although regaining my humanity was one of the main reason i had to leave behind something that drained me, i fear the halt and stand still i currently am in.

 

COFFEE COUNT: +2

 

day 28.

while talking with a dear dear friend i found myself saying

“…theres work that you “work in/at” and theres work that you “work for/with”…”

i cant control what path my decisions lead me to but id prefer the later.

it would be ideal. it would be awesome. it would be more than this.

COFFEE COUNT : 7 big ass cups #pinkyfingeryiz

day 23.

“If you don’t feel it, flee from it. Go where you are celebrated, not merely tolerated.” — Paul F. Davis

its been a whirlwind and i havent really been able to pause and speak to myself.

i love what i am doing but is the love enough, is the “doing” ever enough.

i grew up constantly hearing “love never says i have done enough” and though coming from a phase i partially regret HAHA it does give a “shot to the heart and youre to blame” kind of feeling.

do i love?

have i loved?

is it love?

 

COFFEE COUNT: + 4

day 14.

i walked alone

along the streets i have yet to be fully acquainted to

ive walked along them before but never like this

a sense of the unfamiliar familiar crept in

it wasnt compelling nor was it comforting

it just made itself felt.

 

and as i walked alone

i started to fear my own shadow

 

——

i may have had very little caffeine today. HAHA!

 

COFFEE COUNT: +4

day 11.

the day began in the manner ive been accustomed to

the usual humming of sounds i refuse to take notice

the usual urgency of being where i distastefully need to be.

 

yet within the cloud of frustrations and internal defeat a sense of content made itself felt.

peculiar, unwanted, lamentable yet most definitely present and carried itself with a calm and slow acknowledgement

 

at the moment, for lack of anything else, i obliged.

i allowed content to get to me. in spite of it.

we had a blast.

 

 

 

COFFEE COUNT: +3 (+2 if you count the caffeine from the tea cups i had)

day 9.

525,600 minutes.

525,000 moments so dear.

525,600 minutes… how do you measure, measure a year?

Hi.

Im Pia and I love coffee.

that being stated, I feel the need to further elaborate my loose use of the word “love.” It may have been used to describe an acceptable (to my personal standards) level of addiction, dependence, fascination, intrigue, interest, passion and mild enslavement. so yes, I do love coffee.

This morning, swirling with my usual set of early morning musings, I realized that I now favor strict black brewed coffee. Yes, it is dead-to-the-tongue bitter but I seem to be completed by its presence in my system from just one sip (or maybe a huge gulp).

Later in the day, I got another cup from a coffee shop near where I had a “meeting.” The barista asked me for my name and being my effervescent (the fizzy kind) self I said “Pia with a P” with such a high spirit. A few minutes later, I got this.
hearted P

After the “meeting,” I went to another coffee shop to work. Laptop on desk, organizer opened, colored pens ready, coffee on hand, I was ready.
But I wasn’t too enthusiastic about work that afternoon (HAHA) so I demanded an impromptu coffee-date with a friend whom I knew was in the area. She obliged.

We talked about LIFE and had mature realizations of what was, those that are currently and the daunting could be. It was refreshing; much like sipping a generously iced americano with raw sugar. It made its mark, left its hint, gave me a boost and left me feeling oddly, interestingly and much gratefully renewed.

I knew that this year would not be dramatically different from all the other years before it. It will have its share of “hell-hath-no-fury burned tongues”, “overly sweetened blended stuff”, “why the hell am I drinking this shit”, “too white there is no room for black (and vice versa)” and many other cups that I have and will soon encounter but luckily there would always be an entity; be it a thing, person, place, moment, desire… which may be pulled into “my quaint coffee corner” allowing me to realize that I have the ability to make sense of it with a dash (or sometimes heaps of) love.

measure your life in love.

CUP COUNT: 16