Coffee Marks

This was meant to be a piece about gaining one’s definition. You know, thoughts about mastering my perspective. That’s too deep I thought, people won’t receive it well. These are thoughts about your perspective, not theirs. How long will it take them to relate when it took you a lifetime (and counting). Good advice from a subconscious that often gets its way.

The prose above describes a difficult relationship I have with my thoughts, and how I’m often caught by surprise when we are rarely not at opposite sides. See, I was given a mind big enough to carry my thoughts. All of them. The same mind also carries my emotions; can you imagine how difficult this life of indecision is or should I say feels. See what I mean?

Let me paint a picture you might relate to: I love Coffee, wholeheartedly. I also love Sleep, unconditionally. There comes a time when the two loves of my life go head-to-head and fight for my loyalty. And if you ask me, Coffee is a selfish lover because Sleep lets her be. I spend all my waking hours with her, Coffee and I count beans on our daily grind. We swim in a pool of dark-roast insomnia, staying up longer with every cup.

You’d think what follows my 18 hour escapades with Coffee are long and fuzzy nights made of comfort with Sleep. A sweet time in cuddleville, where my eyelids tightly spoon. No, it’s a tragically not the case. Coffee sends her irresistible scent, enriched with the aroma of a groundbreaking question, do you want to dream or stay up, work and live a life you dream of?

It is still a piece about gaining one’s definition, I think. It’s also mysteriously written for you to know how I feel every time I betray Sleep. I hail, almost choke with effort to breathe while outside, my sobs are loud yawns which are really a melody for sleep. The sound of my lost freedom pounds against people’s skull plates. A thumping not loved by a world that always says, tsamorobala!

Writer: Kabelo Sabeko    Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash