Diary

22.10

December 18, 2021

 

For the everlasting restless heart of mine...

Life is supposed to be thrilling..

for me to carry on ?

 

After the fights, of the highs-and-downs,

then comes another rains and storms...

yet, i haven't found what universe wants to show me

roads seems boundless

and i have often become careless

 

tears and drips--

despairs and agonies--

i have grown exasperated..

 

i, once, devised--

what if--

i had given in?

what if--

i decided to runaway, then?

 

would it be any better?

 

though--

i have-- too many times-- encountered uncertainties.

vanilla latte

VANILLA LATTE [10]

22.03

 October 1, 2021

It feels unfair, now. That every remaining memories about you, is just a memory now.  

 

"No Vanilla Latte today." he uttered, looking like threatening me with his small eyes-- that absolutely never worked on me. 

"No vanilla latte?"  i questioned the counter-lady, and she was confused as if asking me back tilting her head an inch.

"Let's just have americano. Two?"  

He lured me to follow him-- oh not going to work, dear...

"Me -- vanilla latte, please..." I handed my card.

 

He flicked me and laughed.

"Someone is gonna pile up sugar in her cheeks again today."

"Yes. Who cares?"

 

It was his first treat. His very own 4.5 dollars which almost fly me to the moon, not because it was enough to buy the rocket's ticket and all the astronaut's gears -- but his very 4.5 dollars contained his whole hearty heart.

It was his first text, yesterday. His very own single seconds he spared to ask me out for a coffee. It was a very short query:

"tomorrow, coffee?" 

 two words-- but means world to me. 

Mr. Americano, never spent his times to prattle on a chat, he is rather short and flat.


We met today, for the first time we didn't call it coincidence, even though i knew, the yesterday, and another yesterday were also not a coincidence-- i did wait for him to appear.

"so, busy?" he started the talk.

"ah-- did i ask about your day job?"

"i never expected you would be in that field..."

"but we connect well-- in many ways..."

 "it is a fate-- i believe it is..."

 "we crossed ways-- well, anyway..."

 

He is effusive.

But his every words was a trigger for my SA-nodes. 

It spurred my heartbeat-- in a good way. 

My facial nerve got crazy and couldn't stop smiling -- oh dear...

VANILLA LATTE [9]

21.29

April 6. 2020

 if only, i could pick of what things better remain as memories, i would choose your every companion. with your eyes fixing on your work, with your words, never really answering to my preaches and carps, but still... you stayed. 


He came, with an extra slice of mocha nougat roll-cake.
"I thought it wouldn't be enough, but it's big and i paid two already..."  his hand moved, putting the wooden tray on the table, first, placing the cake beside my glass of vanilla latte. 

"a treat." he added.

i observed how he took a seat, putting of his coat, taking out his phone and put it upside-down on the table. He didn't look worried that he shared a table with a stranger. At last, he finally was crashing concentrated on his tablet's screen.

"do you always come here? for a vanilla latte?" he finally realized my presence.

"mm... it's two-cents cheaper than anywhere else." 

he laughed.

and stopped, when watching me picking out the nuts.

"you enjoy the cake that way?" he asked 
"why?"

"eat the cake..."

"i will... slowly."  

how could i finish this so hastily, i value this so heartily. i got retribution-- for waiting over almost like a decade-- to see you...


vanilla latte

VANILLA LATTE [mr. americano]

19.09

 October 17, 2019


his name was eargasm and sympathetic
but you'd only know him by mr. americano

through many silences and talks, i had learned so far are:

He's just another man -- the only special he owned was, he would sit across me with his both ears ready for long preaches and ratting. Just another man, who would respond my elated or agitated expression with  the same smile, or if he was being generous--a little chuckle.

mr. americano -- is one of a kind.
his smile is excitative.
yet, an inhibitor for every restless heart.

he was born in spring.
through the falls of dried leaves.
and yes, he looked weary all the time.

mr. americano -- he's mr. americano.
but he's a memento in a cup of my vanilla latte.
he came along with every melted ice cubes.
he lied in every dew drops around the glass.
and he remained as a company after i finished a glass.

16.44

 August 17, 2019

Between cries and struggles...

Dear my dear self, you'll finally arrive in a world you never expected before.

You'll finally realize that, it's a good thing to not give up in the beginning, in the middle, up to the end.

You'll see yourself, in a very proud way, that you've finally able to conquer and strive.

I have never felt my self as not okay as these days.

Everything passed in indiscernible way.

In every morning runs, late night crams, and sleep deprived in the mid-day, it's hard to find the right rhythm.

But, hey-- it would get better soon.

I would find my self being happy and enjoying these tortures.



Lost

21.28

August 10, 2019
 
The cave I am walking through blinds both my eyes and heart.
I am lost of which way I should walk through.
I am numb of what pain or happiness I am truly sensating.

I am lost.
in between worries and fears
for the upcoming uncertainties.





vanilla latte

VANILLA LATTE [8]

22.45

February 17, 2019


an-Americano between nights.

Through any transpicuous windows, the crowds of lamps failed to call you in.

and, how much time more I'll have to wait for us to cross?


Dear universe,

I am waiting for his shadow to pass by.

Let me count, if possible,

The days passed so fast that I might not care of how much times wasted.

For you, an-americano between rains in April.


"He came alone, yesterday, only for a quick take out." this lady behind the counter said as she gave me back my card.

"Who?"

"the owner of that parasol. in your bag, miss..." she replied with smile.

"Really? I can leave this to you? he might come back, he might need it anytime soon."

I, of course wouldn't need her answer to take out the umbrella from my bag.

But the door's bell rang, breaking the silence between us.


"Evening..." the lady greeted a person behind me that automated my neck to more than 90 degrees turn around.

Brown coat.

He. is...

that americano-man.



I raised my hand awkwardly, showing his umbrella right in front of his head.


"Oh?"

He noticed his stuff, right?

"Vanilla? Latte?"

God. his voice traveled to my heart and spur my AV-nodes harshly, rudely. I thought I might faint.

I stepped aside and just nodded foolishly.

"How fortunate, this umbrella would go home, finally." I handed it to him.

"Thank you, what a coincidence."

No-- you rude man, I am waiting for like a decade. No such a thing like coincidence. I disagreed.

I have been waiting for every chance I got to land my ass here, only for a slight hope that I might have a brief companion for a glass of vanilla latte.

"Wait-- I'll place my order."

I frowned that he suddenly stopped me when I was about to walk to my seat.

He peeped through above my head. "Ah, you'll sit there?"

I hummed.

His head turned back to his phone and paid his americano. So what? At least, talk! will you sit with me or how? Geez-- man! That's how rude man is!


The window-seat was the witness, of how we met in one cold rainy day, in April.

People were coming and passing by, but I couldn't find you.
 
But god pushed you here, to pick your umbrella see me, thank you for coming mr. americano.

22.56

 December 6, 2018

I have been away and trapped my self inside my cube. 
The worst thing I got, your last warm smile lingering in my mind.
Damn! I was betrayed again, by the ticking time. 
You just wouldn't take that smile away, the envenoming memory of how sweet he could be.

The rains pouring every night, watering my longing for every single you in my memories.



it's raining lightly outside.
featuring Sam Kim's Seattle. 


vanilla latte

VANILLA LATTE [7]

22.29

November 29, 2018
 
 

VANILLA

Do you know that vanilla was made from an orchid?

As how nice smell as it is, orchid is also pretty in eyes.


FOUR:

We met in early april, and I kept passing that same path way home with your very own umbrella. I wished I would be able to shake your hand at least, for thanking you letting me hid under your umbrella.


You looked hurt that day.

You held your anger with your cold americano in rains.


Coffee isn't calming for some reasons, dear mr. americano in brown coat. I would treat you to a glass of vanilla latte once we meet again, at least a latte, to comfort your uneasiness. 

I was waiting you at the same seat we sat on that day. I was bringing my own book, Great Gatsby. But I couldn't concentrate onto every classic words I read. I kept wanting to look up whenever the door was opened, hoping that you might stop by.

You.

You were the unfamiliar feelings lingered around my heartbeat.

You were butterflies tickling me inside. 

You, might be the sweetest americano I know, even now. 

vanilla latte

VANILLA LATTE [6]

22.33


October 9, 2018

Dear my iced-americano,

Your eyes were occupied with uneasy emotions. 

In every glimpse, your sad eyes radiated regrets and anger.

You might be in turmoil.

Though, 
In your despair, I found back what lost from me, a shade, an asylum.
Through the remaining drizzling of that afternoon, on which you sacrificed your shoulder to fit me under your small umbrella, we matched our steps for the first time, running in the rain.

My americano, had gone sweet and mesmerizing.
...

"Here?" his collected voice traveled to my every heartbeat, waking up my pupils to dilate and catch his pretty eyes.

I nodded. 

He handed me his very own umbrella before turning around and ran, leaving me in daze. The sight of his back hypnotized me for seconds, the back that i never expected.

God, i wish this is not the last time. 
I'd meet him another more time, later...