The Chair in the Coffee Shop

Sitting in the same chair in the same coffee shop where a year ago I downloaded Tinder for the first time.

Remembering having a full-on panic attack that day, facing the outside world with nothing but fear, eyes filled with doubt and fingers painfully aware of the consequences of their actions.

The other night I had another dream about an old friend (the same one), but this time there was a feeling, words even, sharing and maybe caring and maybe some other stuff, too.

I dreamed her into a happy life working at a stationary store, helping old ladies and gassing up the cuties. We didnʼt even bother going over all the distance thatʼs grown between us, just met somewhere in the middle of the page, where we both felt we could speak our mind(s). She smiled the same smile, the one Iʼve missed for years without realizing. I think I can turn the page now, and itʼll be okay.

I feel a mountain of love, I feel my friends climb my arms and strangers build homes between my legs, I feel the city at my feet and everything I can remember about my life shifting constantly, so slow youʼd have to be here for years to notice.

And thatʼs how I know my family and friends will never die.