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I never knew just what it was,
about this old coffee shop I love so much,

all the while I never knew.”

I used to wear this red beret everywhere. It was some kind of statement, I guess, or maybe it was the fact that a beret, all stretchy and malleable, was the only thing to fit this big head of mine.

She always wore the fanciest hats, picked from the shelves of vintage stores, estate sales and thrift stores. Her hats had history, color, and intrigue.

I felt like my beret was so ordinary,  that it was trying to hard, yet still I wore it, trying to project some kind of difference. But still, most of the time I felt invisible.

I remember as a young girl, reading Deenie in my bed at night, with a flashlight, way past bedtime. I remember she had Scoliosis and had to wear this hideous back brace that stuck out everywhere, but still she remained invisible to everyone else. I could so relate. I always felt like I got lost in the walls of every and any place.

Sometimes I still feel like that, too tall, too awkward, still fading into nothing, forgotten. On those days when that rush of insecurity flames through me, I know that I try too hard.

Yes, way too hard. I can hear it in my voice. I laugh a bit too loud. I tell too many stories. I find myself talking in these jangly circles that have no real meaning, nor destination. Inside I am screaming. Can you not see me? Can you not see how hard I am trying? How I am dying in this trying too hard.

On those days I feel as much of an outcast as a plastic spork in a fancy, expensive restaurant. The kind with eight forks for one meal, not that I would know how to distinguish any of them, from the other.

I am really more of a diner girl. Milk shakes, jukeboxes, lot of good, not strained, conversations. Coffee shops in the company of friends who know me for who I really am, big head, loud laugh, gullible, heart danging careless from my sleeve, with or without a beret. All of it, and all of me, with an extra large coffee.

Coffee (live) :: Yuna

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