Writing Fling #5: Essence of coffee; diluted by tears

Fifth instalment in a writing experiment from 2015.


I cry. Into my coffee cup. Almost empty now. Cafe almost empty now. I sit. Alone. Almost depleted now. Almost exhausted now.

Essence of coffee; diluted by tears.

Bitter. Invigorating. Annoying and artificial in its invigoration. Temporary relief. Temporary mask of feelings. Tears bring reality. Tears bring their own relief. Natural relief. Healing relief.

Moving into and towards the pain, uncertainty and fear. Moving there because of it. Because of what it is showing, indicating, highlighting. It is saying, 'This is the thing to explore. Don't mask it. Don't deny it. Sit with. Feel. Feel. Feel. Explore. Understand.'

It may take years, and then the smallest sentence in the smallest conversation may unlock the truth. The truth you have allowed yourself to explore more each day through going through the pain.

Head bowed. Hands on forehead. It is time to go. 

Essence of coffee; diluted by tears.

I drink it. Salty and bitter. Coffee should not be sweet, should not be easy to drink. Tears should not be sweet, easy to cry.

I pick up the newspaper, pay for my stay, and head out onto the street. It is cold, and raining, as a cliche would anticipate.

I put my cap on. Not sure what to do next I walk to the left. Slowly, without purpose.

I find a seat near a grassy reserve. The sun is coming out and the rain is stopping. I lower my hat over my eyes and turn my face to the warming sun. It feels nourishing. I may end up being okay. I may live again. I may love again. 

I feel wet from the rain and warm from the sun. I still have a legacy. My experience will not leave me. It will be transformed over time. Renewed. Reinterpreted.