Mudd Coffee

Sometimes I stop in at Mudd and sit for awhile.

Today I bought another notebook and a pen. And I sat down and wrote in it. I wrote about what was on my mind. Like always. But then I left them behind.

I wrote on the front, "Write In Me." and on the inside, "Tell Me Your Secrets."

That's my dream.

That atleast twice-a-day, a stranger in Union Sq. or somewhere else, gives a note to another just like I do. Packed with their pain, their love, their heart. That everyone else chisels away at this goddamn ice block that society has frozen around our soul. Or that we let down the drawnbridge that a bad childhood rolled up.

That we can all be vulnerable. To feel again.

That NYC won't be a cold place.

It's what I think about all the time.

: / "What do you see, when you look at me? Do you take me for a fool?"

I guess when it comes down to it. I put my faith in strangers. When I told someone that recently, they said, "Unreliable." and she's totally right.

But nothing in life is reliable. So I'm gonna get hurt, right?

"Does it comfort you to know you fought the good fight?"

Maybe it does.

-N

p.s. I'll check back in a week or so at Mudd to see if anyone wrote in it. If you're reading this and you did, draw me a little smiley in a corner so I know. <3