Tears in my coffee

I'm sitting here at a coffee shop, attempting to pour all my thoughts and reflections out into a potential future book. I know, it might sound crazy to attempt such a thing, but I have this deep urge to write, all the time, and I have so much material it's almost unbearable to keep it in. I have no idea what I am doing, and the topics I am writing about feel vastly separated, but then sometimes they do cross over. Will it be a comedic and education book? Or will it be a sentimental and all encompassing auto-biography? Maybe I will write two. Maybe they will morph together. I'm not sure, but I must purge these thoughts. These words. The heartache. The confusion. The frustration. The facts. The moments - happy and sad. Funny and depressing.

I only wrote about one page of material, and I cried for maybe five to 10 minutes while doing so, and I already feel absolutely exhausted. I had another entry already prepared with an amazing topic to dive into, but I do not even know if I can continue on. So I decided to switch gears and go to my blog. I do not even know what this blog is for anymore. It used to be about beautiful places and my internal journey towards a new life. Now it seems to just be a bunch of jarbled emotions. I've written so much here that I am beginning to think I am going to write about topics over again that have already been reflected on.

I've cried in public a lot. In places where no one else is crying, and maybe never has. Airport security lines, hostels in New Zealand, and now a coffee shop. Not just a few tears, but really crying. Sad, heartbreaking tears. Because each time I was heartbroken.