I haven't been to the cafe in a while, even if it's where I live. Even though it's home.
I set out what seems like years ago, on a trip to devote myself to becoming better. I didn't know what better entailed really. I knew it was a way to get to become a better player. A better athlete. I can only wonder when the road behind me turned to darkness, and only the few steps in front of me were all I could see. It isn't as if I'm lost, I don't feel like I've been wandering. I know I have a plan. I miss home though. I miss the comforting bustle of the coffee machines and the two baristas.
I feel as if I've been gone for too long, as if they won't be able to find me on my own road. I'm ready to finally go back. I wish to travel back to the cafe so much, but I know I have to keep going.
I don't know if I'm in a deep sleep in the cafe, or if I'm just walking alone. It doesn't seem familiar to me. Wherever I am, it feels alone again. Everyone seems so distant from where they were.
I miss home, and it hurts me to think of it. Expectations raise the bar of what I expect from myself, and it's too much. I know I need to change the way I think but that in itself is always a hard habit to change.
I miss home, the smell of food early in the morning, and the familiar voices of the spirits I called friends.
I miss the warmth of hugs from Sangroy, and I miss the eyes of brown that met mine with a warmth in them that matched the contents in the cup of the owner.
It's strange how far away I feel from home. It makes me tear up, it makes me hurt. The movement of each day weighs on me like that of atlas and the world.
Home. Home. Each time I read the word, say it, hear it, it means different things. One day it means a place to sleep, one day it means where my friends and family are, and some days it means the place where my soul rests.
I can remember every part of the cafe, I can remember every guest that I've ever had in it. I can remember every awe inspiring moment that's happened. Perhaps with time my mind has made changes to the cafe's road just a bit, so that I may not be able to recognize the path unless I pay careful attention.
I must look through the darkness in front of my feet, just past the light around me. I must rub my eyes of the sleep and look out. I must clear the anger and jealousy, the rage and the disappointment to see the familiar surroundings of the cafe.
I don't know if I can do all of this alone, but I'll try. I have to.
