I never forgot it, confusing as it was

I want to live in the space between loving and lusting.
and between caring so deeply I end up breaking, and not giving a fuck
and in a million little coffee houses owned by sweet Italian men who put chocolate on the lattes
Yeah, like the one at White Rock
And all the commercialized coffee shops that try to gain popularity with the artsy crowd by setting up shop inside of equally commercialized bookstores
Them too.
I want to live there with a laptop and write about all the people I see.
Not in the sun, with the mosquitos and the greasey food and the people who know everyone.
I don't belong here.
Five, ten years ago, I would have. Yes, I was young.
Possibly naive but they all said I was a smart girl and I believed them.
I've grown and changed and someone told me flat out that it was not for the better.
That was over a year ago.
Imagine what I've become now.