 To be quite honest, I know honest people don’t say that, and maybe that’s precisely why I’m saying that. 2018 has been hard. I think it’s LA, it’s always weird to be back and to adjust, and maybe in some ways, I didn’t want to come back, so I have been reluctant to accept it. It’s been an adventure, and I have had some amazing opportunities, but it’s been hard. However, New Year’s 2018 I’ll always remember, besides the whole Vegas being up for 24 hours thing, is my yellow rose I got while at The Bellagio. While so simple and so beautiful, but me being who I am, I made it a symbol. A symbol of the year to come. Beautiful, welcoming, friendly, loving, self-loving, and while I might hit a few thorns it’ll be lovely, absolutely, undoubtedly lovely. And I believed it and still do. This yellow rose survived me and 2018 for 24 hours of dancing, casinos, and desert heat with no water and once finally back in LA I put it in a mason jar, and it bloomed, and bloomed and filled my room with the subtlest hint of rose for the whole month of January. Truthfully, it still looked lovely up until today, but just got a little dried out. My plan was to dry it in between the page of my notebook so that I could save this symbol, my symbol for 2018. However, to my disappointment I waited too long, it was too dry, and when I closed the notebook, it entirely crumbled. My first thought: wtf. My symbol for 2018 gone because I waited too long and then tried to preserve something that had already served its purpose. That is inheritably one of my most significant flaws, the fact that when it is time for something to leave my life I try to hold on to it even stronger and preserve it, and it crumbles. However my second thought: content! I mean I do work in social media, and some habits are hard to quit. So after I created my A-1 content, peep below. I got to thinking (not to go Millennial Carrie Bradshaw on you all, and get carried away) but I figured if I made this yellow rose and arbitrary symbol for 2018 why not stick with it. I thought about the person I was in 2017 and how in so many ways I had become so strong and tough, and not in a good way, but in a way that was hindering to my life. 2017 was hard, like call your parents crying at 3 am, find a new place to live, process childhood memories and ending your relationship of 2 years hard. It felt like one life lesson after another. And because of that, I became resilient, but I also lost a lot of my humanness, my ability to be relatable and put others before myself. I felt as though so much of my year was focused on staying alive and “making it” it was hard to focus or think of anyone besides myself. Not to mention moving to Europe that was literally “me, myself, and I,” melodramatic, sure, but much needed. 2017 taught me in many ways to love myself and to learn to spend time with myself and not to feel reliant on others. I felt as though I didn’t need anyone else because relying on others is weak and it often leads to hurt and that I couldn’t do, it scared me. I figured I would just be this badass babe, CEO and I would do it on my own without anyone’s help. Sure, cool still the plan, and doable but like the yellow rose that shattered to its core maybe it was time for me to destroy the walls I built (how happy are you all that I’m not auditioning for the Bachelor because this is TV gold right here) and be vulnerable again, vulnerable to my core.  I want to be vulnerable again. Genuinely vulnerable because I think that is the only way to experience life. I don’t want to look back on my life, on my deathbed, and think about all the should-have, could-have, would-have moments if I would have just been more vulnerable in that one moment how things might have turned out. I envy the people that have been through hardships in life and have managed to stay vulnerable. Not the fake, happiness, everything is fine facade vulnerable that I am guilty of, but genuine vulnerability. Often many of the hardships that we go through in life, when we turn up on the other side we have built up walls or become scared. This idea of fear is one that I think is the most detrimental because that is the one that will keep you in jobs you hate, in friendships that drain you, and in relationships that make you unhappy. That fear that this is how things are meant to be and this is the best it’ll get because you are too afraid to leave it all behind and feel alone, even just momentarily so you suffer. If 2017 taught me anything it was that that fear wasn’t worth it and sometimes setting your whole life on fire just to cut off the dead ends, it’s worth it, but I also set my vulnerability on fire in the process.
My goal for 2018 is to break down my walls, not wait for someone to do it for me, but to break them down so that I can embrace others with honest and genuine vulnerability. I think it is funny, and something I am guilty of too, but this idea that we are afraid of other humans. We are scared of feeling rejected by them or saddened by them. Why? They are just people just like you, and I and at their core, they want the same things that we do, love, acceptance, and happiness. I think that if we work to bring out our vulnerability, we will bring it out in others too and work together to be loving, accepting, and happier. So in 2018 (I am putting this down in writing so you all can hold me accountable) But I vow to be more vulnerable. I want to be vulnerable enough that when I see a cute guy at a bar to go up to him, not stand in a circle with my friends talking about him. I want to embrace every emotion fully. I want to be open enough and silly enough off first embrace I don’t want first impressions to be built off of reservations that need to be broken down but rather embraces filled with engagement and interest. And I want to be vulnerable enough to cry if I feel like crying and not feel the need to say, “sorry that I’m so emotional, I’m getting my period soon.” No, I am emotional because I am human and have emotions, and sometimes they are sad, sometimes they are happy. During a time where we have an administration that considers “vulnerable” to be a dirty word, I think it is even more critical that we are more vulnerable and kind with ourselves and others. I know that every dream and plan I have for my future career I can accomplish on my own, but I don’t want to do it on my own I want to do it with the support and love of others and for others that builds a community along the way. I especially want a love that is so pure it’s boring, and I don’t want to settle for anything besides that. No sleepless nights, fights, and doubts. I’ve experienced the loves where you feel like without that person you can’t breathe or the passionate love and the emotional fights. I don’t want it. It’s draining and burns out quick. I also want to be more vulnerable for my writing. Writing like any form of art is exposing yourself and your life to others and building a human connection or sharing a story that they can relate to. I think for the longest time I have had writer's block and I always wrote it off to be that “I only write when I am in love or falling out of love.” That’s bullsh*t, and a crutch or I can’t write because “I’m too busy” that’s also bullsh*t. It was because I didn’t want to be vulnerable at least not in an honest way. I tried to paint this picture that everything was chill, it was cool, and under control. I can handle it. Whatever. I was a total whatever girl, nothing could hurt me, and nothing could phase me, it was safe. Opening myself up again to write is scary, you never know how others are going to relate or react, but I want to do it, for the art and myself. And for me sharing all this with you all is vulnerability in its purest form. So let’s be vulnerable together in 2018 *barf* I know, but I kind of love it.
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 Me in middle school. Old MySpace photos for authenticity. Today was one of those days when I woke up with a headache, to a sky filled with smog, where I couldn’t see past what felt like 3 feet, and I just overall felt tired and over it. Half hoping I just passed out midway through getting ready in the morning so I'd actually have a reason for feeling the way I did; obviously I didn’t. This mood of just feeling “meh” carried on into my day until I finally ended up in Whole Foods, unnecessarily shopping for lunch and things I didn’t need.
While at Whole Foods, I decided to call my mother and just basically, complain. I had no real reason for calling her, nothing urgent, nothing catastrophic, but instead, I couldn’t shake my morning mood of “meh” along with to current state of uncertainty that fills my life. I am 23 and life is filled with making decisions and quite frankly the idea of failure or making the wrong decision freaks me out. I am beyond worried that a choice I make now will have a snowball effect on my life 20-30-40 years down the line. In fact, no decision of mine holds any real weight. I am 23. And even if what might momentarily feel like the wrong decision will either correct itself or I can change it, time is on my side. So while I was strolling through the aisle of Whole Foods deciding which brand of organic quinoa I was buying this week, and my mother was listening to me debate the same two things back and forth. Bless my parents for answering my calls because in most cases I am deciding between two lunch options; my mother decided to share a current event with me. STORY TIME: There is a women that is Freelancing at the company my mom works for who my mother has become close with for two specific reasons: 1. The woman is a single mother, and for the first three years of my life she raised me on her own. Than when we came to the US my parents both worked two jobs in the beginning or were balancing work and school and the fact that they didn’t have any real friends or family in the US to help out (typical immigrant stuff). Plus, moms always relate about being moms and raising kids. 2. Because as many of you know my little sister was bullied intensely in middle school for being petite. While she isn’t as short anymore, she is still significantly skinnier and looks about 12. My parents know the battle of fighting the school while your child is being bullied and nothing happening. The woman that works with my mom has a 13-year-old daughter in middle school who is being bullied. Recently it escalated to the point where it became a physical altercation. Now I don’t know who started the fight, why it started, or any of the details, but I do know, during the fight, the bully managed to rip out 3-4 braids out of the girls head, HER ACTUAL HAIR WAS RIPPED OUT. Then after the fight got broken up the little girl, 13-year-old, who was bullied, and just had her hair ripped out, got put in handcuffs. Now I don’t know what is the protocol for school fights, I don’t know if that is normal. I couldn’t imagine that the policeman/school security/teachers who broke up the fight couldn’t manage to keep two 13-year-old girls apart without having to handcuff one of them. I mean 13-year-old girls are tiny probably weigh around 120, but again I don’t know the protocol. Now that part of this story that has been on my mind all day, and motivated me to write... The little girl that just had her braids ripped out of her head, who I am sure was bleeding and in pain told her mother after that she wasn’t concern about her hair, and it being ripped from her head, but she was worried once she got handcuffed that she was about to get beaten by the cops. The little girl is black. And while I have never pretended to understand the extent of racism and race issues in America, or globally really, and I hope no one has ever thought I have pretended to know or “act black” or “think I was black” because until hearing this story I knew there was a race issue in America, but I don’t think I entirely got it, and probably still don't, but while I have never been black, will never be black, and will never understand what it is like to be black, I have been a 13-year-old girl. I have been a 13-year-old girl, and I know that during that time in your life you have so much going on in between hormones, and guys sucking, and other girls can just be b*tches, it’s tough, and you cry all the time for no reason. My point is, being a 13-year-old girl is hard enough without being handcuffed and being fearful for your life. And even though I haven’t been bullied first hand, I’ve seen it from my sister’s perspective; I know how hurtful it is and how much it sucks. And I also know one thing for sure that if at 13, or truthfully now, if I got into a physical altercation with another girl, where my hair had been ripped out, and the police handcuffed me. I think I would be more worried about my hair than the fact that I was handcuffed and what was going to happen next, and that folks, is white privilege. The idea that at that moment I can be more concerned about my physical appearance than to be fearful for my life is the perfect example of privilege that I could have never made up. I did not write this to share my privilege, and I don’t know why I wrote it besides the fact that I have had friends, white friends, share with me the idea that they don’t think there are race issues in America or don’t understand the situation with cop XXXXX and XXXXX. White friends have asked why I don’t say the “n-word” and why there “isn’t a white history month?” People who very clearly don’t see their privilege and think in some way think that by minorities getting a voice they are losing theirs and “their power.” For those friends that have done the above I just want to ask you, if you got into a fight and got your hair ripped out would you be more worried about the status of your hair or your safety after you got handcuffed? And until you can tell me wholeheartedly you would be more concerned about your safety than until that moment you have to acknowledge your privilege and know that you are not “losing your voice.” I hope, I really hope that you will always be there for your friend's of color and other minorities and work to improve their quality of life. If nothing else listen to your friends and their stories and their side of things, and do not feel threatened by their voice but rather feel empowered when those around you feel powered. Until that moment comes, I hope you help to echo their causes and explain to those that don’t understand, what you know and what you can explain to help bridge the gap on our experience on earth and life for those around you. Because I am going to try, try more.  If you want to be great you have to do two things: 1. Surround yourself by greatness, and 2. Always learn. This idea of being a lifelong learner is what makes so many immigrants so successful. When you’re an immigrant in another country it completely humbles you. Whether you have a college degree or not, if you speak with an accent most people will doubt your credibility. Most immigrants move to another country alone or with a spouse in hopes of a better life. While people that are born in a country and also raised there, they have the benefit of having family at any given turn and for all of life’s hiccups and connections, immigrants don’t have that, and need to build it all from scratch. Immigrants are humbled from the beginning, and every time someone laughs at the way they mispronounce something, they are always learning and adjusting their skills to better their life, and while they are doing that and moving forward, many of us are staying comfortably in place, stagnate.
If you’re not already pissed at me for what I have written, then brace yourself because this might just be the twig the breaks the camel’s back. WE NEED MORE IMMIGRANTS. See in countries like America and Estonia (I’m only picking on America and Estonia because these are my homes) the locals and the citizens are becoming a little too comfortable. They are becoming complacent in their 9-5 jobs, in middle management, with a decent retirement plan, and aren’t really learning any new skills. (*This idea is a generalization and is not reflective of the full populations) So when an immigrant comes in, one that has fought, literally has the blood, sweat and tears of their struggles and their parent’s struggles, to get to said middle management position and then get promoted over you, someone that has been there for some years just plugging and chugging away at your daily task, you get mad. You then say immigrants are given free passes and are stealing your jobs because it is easier to blame a random person, who you don't know, than to look inside yourself. I’m going to let you in on a little immigrant secret. Our grit comes from the idea that we essentially have no safety net, whatever decision we make we have to endure those consequences good or bad and move forward. My parents for example, their retirement plan is my sister and I, they have put everything: time, money, effort, and their youth into giving my sister and I a better future, so you better believe that I am willing to work twice as hard and not complain because I know where I stand, where I came from, and what happens if I don't accomplish my goals. So that immigrant that just passed you, did so because you lost your grit and if you want to get back your grit, you need more immigrants and you need more competition because you also need that push to get out of your comfort zone and feel the healthy pressure that makes you want something more. Competition makes you hungry, competition brings out the best in you, and competition is capitalism. Most countries believe in capitalism and capitalism is all about competition and supply and demand, so essentially if you have someone that is willing to do better quality work for a better price you’re going to choose them, assuming the other person isn’t a Rockefeller or Kennedy. Essentially immigration is the business of people. So while right now immigrants are the hardworking, grit fueled, dream chasers, this doesn’t have to stay as such. If enough citizens begin to feel as those the balance has been turned out of their favor they shouldn’t get mad, and scared, and fearful. The citizens need to become capitalist and learn skills that’ll improve their work and passions and essentially give them their grit back. Life is all about balance and while sometimes you might be the smartest, funniest, strongest person in the room, other times you might not be, and when you’re not, don’t get scared and mad and want to kick all the immigrants out, no. Sit back, gather your thoughts, learn something, humble your ego, and then get better, always get better. Continue to fuel the competition, so when immigrants think they’ve “finally made it” you can pop up and give them a run for their money. While this won’t be the end all and save all on the topic of immigration, in fact, this is only the surface, and something I think I will continue adding too from my experiences. I hope it makes a dent in at least one person, and instead of fear toward another person or culture they would rather try to embrace them with curiosity, because in the end of the day we’re all human, and we just want to be accepted. And me, just maybe I'll accept that I am a permanent immigrant and in a way if makes me a citizens of the world, and that sounds beautifully to me. No photo for fear, because we don't need to manifest it, but rather forgive it and let it go.I understand why people fear immigrants, sometimes they look different than you, or speak another language in front of you that has you worried, “are they talking about me?” or maybe they cook with ingredients and spices that you’ve never heard of and “that’s just weird, ew.” Fear is rooted from the idea of not understanding and it is easier to be fearful and maybe even to get mad, than to accept that maybe you can be more open or learn something new about someone else. Because why should you change or learn anything new it’s your country right? No, wrong.
Immigrants are just the change that we need to make things better. For example, when I look at a country like Estonia it baffles me that they are so afraid of immigration, if anything they should be ushering in immigrants with open arms, there are only 1.5 million of them and if their culture doesn’t get new blood, eventually they’re going to die out. The younger generations will want to move abroad for more opportunities and when the older generations pass, then what? Instead of standing at the boarders arms crossed and refusing to allow anyone in that doesn’t speak about the hardest language ever, why not open your boarders to people that are excited to come to your country and want to learn about your culture and your language. Yes, there will be changes. I am not naïve. Immigrants do just bring themselves, they bring their memories and their cultures too, but what is so harmful about someone bringing their culture? The more cultures that arrive, in a way the less you have to travel? You get to experience the best parts about people’s cultures through their showcases, foods, stores, events, and if you can’t afford travel, you’ll still feel like you got the see the world, but never had to get on the plane. We need to let go of this idea of wanting to be the strongest, smartest, funniest person in every room we are in. When we are constantly the best in every way than we stop learning, and that's not the end goal. The only way that you continue to learn post school is by putting yourself into situations where you are out of your comfort zone and forced to learn. The reason to be a lifelong learner is why we are on earth, we all need to let our narcissism and hubris chill for a minute and humble ourselves. Now don't get me wrong. I don't live in a cotton candy filled world where racism doesn't exist, it does and while a good portion of the people that dislike immigrants do so, due to racism, I think even racism is rooted in fear. The fear that someone that doesn't look like you that you are taught to hate, might not actually be that person, and they might be better at a certain skill than you are. I don't know how to undo years of taught hatred and racism, I don't, but I think it is something if we can all recognize we can begin to be conscious of, and call it out, and stand with and on the side of those that have the fear and hatred placed on them.  I’ve been thinking about writing this piece for a while, and I figured why not now? I am just laying around waiting for my face mask to dry. Rather write than try to start my budding career as a Insta story comedian, ya feel?
The idea of being an immigrant is something that I consider to be a part of my identity and something that has contributed to me becoming the person you know today. Being an immigrant has given me my grit, it has given me an edgy, and the passion to prove to myself that I can accomplish the “American Dream.” I am literally waiting for the day that I have “made it” and can caption a photo, any photo, “not bad huh, for some immigrants,” like literally WAITING, and partially because of that, I take being an immigrant very seriously. Up until recently I considered my definition of being an immigrant simple, I was an immigrant in the US, document wise, but unless you really knew, you wouldn’t have really known. However, by spending some time abroad, in Europe, my idea of being an immigrant has slightly changed. The reason for this is in America, where I have lived for 20 years, I speak the language perfectly, and am immersed in the culture, I know the slang, I get the jokes, but by rule of the government I am still an immigrant. I have my green card, and because of that I can’t vote, hell my dad even came to the US on a refugee visa, and while most people would never guess my immigrant status off of first impressions, when they do find out, there is a little shift in their attitude. I can’t describe it, but it is something and it comes with comments like, “oh so it must have been easier for you to get into college than…” “yea but do you even pay taxes?” and “every school needs an Eskimo.” I realize that to some friends I am that token immigrant friend, you know the friend’s that voted for Trump, knowing his stance on immigration, but then they use me as a cop out, “like I’m not racist, I support immigration. One of my friend’s even has her green card.” To clarify I pay taxes and having immigrant status didn’t give me a free pass into college, I still have loans and by no means did I get into my dream school. Don’t get me wrong I love FSU now, but it took a while to get there. On the other hand, I am Estonian, born and raised, and that is the country that holds my citizenship. However, I could not feel like more of an immigrant. I speak with an accent, a very heavy one, and often mix in some English words because I forget the Estonian counterparts, I don’t know the culture, I don’t know the slang very well, and I can’t differentiate between the 8 different political parties there, which in my defense for a country that has 1.5 million people 8 political parties seems excessive. In Estonia I get comments such as, “you have a strange accent, you’re not from here right” “you’re living in Estonia you really should type in Estonian” and just the overall doubt in my ability. This overall doubt in my ability comes from the fact that I speak with an accent, so family and strangers question my intelligence and credibility just because I forget a word or two or it takes me longer to explain my idea, so they feel the need to tell me that maybe it’s too difficult for me to live in Estonia and I should just go back to the US. In a time where the world is beginning to focus more on nationalism and anti-immigration, my status of essentially being a permanent immigrant gets to be frustrating. I find myself wanting to constantly scream, “I BELONG HERE!” because I belong in both countries and am contributing to making them both great again (I couldn’t resist the plug). While I have faced challenges with both backgrounds, they have both added a lot to me too, and given me experiences that I otherwise couldn't have been a part of. For every one negative comment I have ever received I have been embraced and welcomed by families and friends that have wanted to learn about the other culture or about how life is on the other side of the world. And as they've learned from me, I have learned more from them and from the culture I am a part of and call home. I don't fall in love with people, just cities. There are currently 3 cities I have a love affair with.
 So in case you missed it, I went to Paris for a week during the end of September, coincidentally the same time as PFW *swoon.* Paris was on my mood board for this year, so like i had to make it happen, and we all know what a sucker I am for signs, and on the way to the airport the radio played a Parisian song, so it was meant to be. I had been once before about 7 years ago, and man oh man, I still love Paris. Paris will always be my love affair, I can see myself living there for a year or two as soon as I learn enough French to order more and a chocolate croissant and ask for the check. Me at 30: Living in Paris, in a cute little Parisian flat on the 8th floor, with a sweet little balcony that I can drink tea on every morning , and freelancing at the cafe downstairs, where I enjoy my chocolate croissant, that's my religion. Dating a Parisian musician or maybe a photographer? I'm not picky, it's casual. Ending my nights with a glass of red wine, sometimes out at dinner with some friends and sometimes after taking my miniature black poodle for a walk. Vacationing on the Amalfi Coast or in Nice, the Mediterranean looks good on me. How right does all that sound?  Being in Paris felt so adult, how I spent my time and where I went was on me, and I could figure it out. I went to visit my cousin who lives there, and has for the past 10 years, but while she was at work I would take the metro and travel to different parts of the city spend time in museums, cafes, and sitting in gardens. There were so many quintessential "Paris moments" like sitting in a cafe and having someone next to me start playing the guitar and break out into a sweet little tone, or singing karaoke in a bar after bar close because it was on my cousin's street and they knew the owner, and a soft rainfall on my last night in the city as we were heading out to go dancing, a movie. Truthfully, I don't know how to write about Paris in a way that isn't absolutely cheesy. It's been almost a month since my trip and I still don't have words. When I went I tried not to romanticize it, but rather enjoy it for what it was, and to live in the absolute present: to make an effort to get to know locals, to learn a new french word everyday, and to genuinely vacation, and I don't regret it one bit. Leaving Paris wasn't a sad moment I know I'll be back, so visit me when I'm living there, ok?   I figured it was time for another life update, so by now I am sure many of you have noticed I am still in Europe. What originally started off as a two-week trip, turned into a month, and now has turned into “I’ll be back in LA for New Year’s.” I didn’t really plan for this, I only brought one suitcase full of clothes, and none of them are "real" Winter clothes; truthfully, I don’t know if I am ready for the possibility of snow, so please send hot chocolate and your best advice!!! Nonetheless, I have decided to extend my trip for a few reasons, and since I am become quite the list girl, here’s a few reasons why:
I guess in a weird way it's a reminder to me that I am only 23, besides being able to provide for myself, I can pretty much be as selfish with my time and decision that I want. If anyone is currently going through the stress of having to graduate and not know what is coming next. I will be the first to tell you that it is going to be a rollercoaster, but once you're on you won't want to get off. You'll figure it out, we all will, and we do, but for now enjoy it all, and stay gold, Ponyboy! I’ll see the rest of you in January!  Is it cliché if... I think the person that lives here has lived a full life. Filled with love and laughter, and while sure they might have had their fair shares of heartbreaks or lessons they never stopped loving others or them self. They get dressed up everyday, even if it's just to buy their morning coffee, but their hat always matches their shoes and they are wearing vintage Chanel or Dior. They make sure to meet with their friends weekly because as they've gotten older they value those around them even more, and they talk about life, love, the book they just finished, and their families. They know all the boutique and shop owners on their street.
They make sure their garden out front is always well kept, watered, and organized. And when they travel to the South of France to spend their summers with their family their neighbors all chip in to help upkeep the garden in exchange for stories of Paris in the 60s and a pastry or two. In fact, you might have seen this person on the way to the train station, you might have actually passed them on the street, the person that caries them self with elegance, not in a way that they are better than you, but rather reflected of their life and when they grew up, with soulful eyes, a genuine smile, and a soft "bonjour," as their scarf waves in the wind, and the wrinkles on their face beautifully tell the stories of years of laughter and love, and you can't help but wonder where they're going, and if you'll age just that gracefully too, but spoiler alert, you will.  I love a good coffee shop crush. You know when you go to a coffee shop/ cafe/ restaurant alone and you sit down to have a snack, but then see a snack (a good looking person). Especially on a bright warm day when you’re sitting outside as the sunny just gently warms your legs while the shadow falls on the rest of you, and can hear the birds flutter past you or an a cold rainy day when you quickly dash into the first coffee shop you see to avoid getting drenched.
At first you make the initial eye contact as you get situated, and then while in between glancing at the menu you glance up at them and make eye contact, and one moment after another you begin to wonder what they are like. Are they funny? Are they in a relationship? Is it their lunch break? Is what they ordered good? Do they like their coffee with milk or just sugar? Do they come here often? While you’re waiting for your food this initial eye contact begins to create a story and a quick little cat and mouse chase. You look up they’re looking at you, but who will be the one to look away first? Maybe what catches your eye is a friendly smile or soft eyes or maybe they remind you of someone you knew another lifetime ago or maybe when they walked in they had that energy that just commands the rooms attention. It is always something, something that catches your eye compared to every other person in the room. While so absolutely harmless, it never moves past more than a wink or a smile, it is so playful and reminiscent of a good song, short and sweet. Coffee shop crushes can be just as sweet as your latte and chocolate croissant, as you take a quick break from your everyday life to let your mind wander with the eyes of a stranger while your imagination runs. And all this lasts the perfect amount of time, just one cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant. And when you get up to leave, and carry on with the rest of your day, you look back just once more, and as your eyes meet, for a subtle goodbye.  Is it cliché if...The person living here, works in tech, throws a killer 4th of July party, and while they have plenty friends and tons to do on the weekends, they often finds themselves up at 1am alone. They're not lonely per say, but will feel alone at times. Because when it comes to matters of the heart they always held back. They never got married, and never had kids, has two dogs though. While they still stands by their decision to rather ruin their couch with dogs, than their life with kids, they sometimes do think back and wishes they got married. There was every only one person they would have married, and while looking back they blames it on the timing, they knows it was really them who refused to grow up, and always assumed they'd find another. They don't let those thoughts marinate for long, but rather pushes them back in their mind, and sends a text, "you up?" And waits for the text bubbles to pop up.
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