I knew I would be here again. Maybe I didn’t know I knew it but the warning was there in my subconscious telling me. “Watch out baby your not going to forget him that easily” Maybe it didn’t tell me it was going to be in a coffee shop I hadn’t been in since my youth. My poor juvenile youth. It isn’t really fair to call it my youth really. I’m only nineteen. But when you go through all the stuff I have you feel amazingly old when you look back on it. Maybe I wanted to be back in this five-dollar coffee shop. In some twisted, masochistic, way it comforts me. No matter what something’s will never change I guess. Even when everything else has, including me. I doubt after he gets a good look at me he’ll want me back. Especially after all the shit I made him go through. I sigh as I drink my almost cold coffee. I had been waiting here since what… six in the morning? And he still isn’t here. He’ll probably not be able to find the not I left him. My face gets worried as I think of that possibility and I start to nibble on my lip ring, placed right in the center of my lip. I wish I could tell you that this tail ends with a happy ending and everything turns out to be a case of messed up words and meaningful apologies, but its not. But in order to understand the ending you have to hear this from the beginning, to my first day as a sophomore in The Bronx High School for the Visual Arts. I had lived in New York city all my life. But I had never met anyone like him
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OK~ my first storyyyy >3<
so this is a little introduction to my story called Coffee, and its based on...
listeningtocoffeeshopsoundtrackonrepetwayyyyytooma nytimes
...
*cough*
anywayyy enjoy .3. OH and if you wanna check out some of my other stuff look at my deviant art
here<3/
