The Names I Don’t Say
I remember most of my regulars.
Their names. Their orders.
How they take their coffee.
I see them almost every day.
I make their drinks swiftly.
Effortlessly.
Like a ritual.
But I rarely call them by name.
Sir. Mate. Buddy. Love. My friend.
I use many words to address them.
But not the one that belongs to them.
Not because I’ve forgotten.
Not because I fear getting it wrong.
But because saying their name
might connect me to the world they live in.
And I’m not sure I belong there.
Sometimes,
I long for a friend.
For company.
For someone to see me.
But I’ve learned
when you live in the shadows,
once they see your true self,
most people fade away.
They become distant.
Polite.
Until they’re just another customer in line.
The things I carry in my quiet hours
are too heavy for most to help me lift.
So I carry them alone.
Without bothering anyone.
Without awkward interaction.
By myself.
In the shadows.
Alone.
My shadows are invisible to most, I somehow shift into caring for all instead of myself to distract me from wishing I could fade away. When I get my morning coffee, it is one of the rare times my smile is not an act. Even after years of trying to perfect and it becoming normal. I genuinely want to smile, because my friend. I see you too.
ReplyDeleteWhen we’re in the dark, it’s true, we often try to fade, or distract ourselves from the thoughts that echo too loudly.
DeleteI’m genuinely glad you’ve found a place where you don’t have to act. That kind of space is rare, and precious. I struggle too. And I still find myself searching for somewhere I can be fully myself, unguarded, unmasked.