A cup of courage

I love coffee.
One day, I topped up a coffee shop app—only to realize later, it had no delivery service in apps and didn’t offer refunds.

Disappointed, I decided to go out and use it.
I put on a simple T-shirt, short pants, slippers, and brought a recycle bag—
just like I used to... years ago.

Years ago, when I was followed. Watched.
When gang stalking made me shrink into myself.
When I internalized every judgment from ex-colleagues and stopped stepping outside altogether.

I stayed locked in.
Not just in my room or house—
but inside my own guilt and shame.
Two years passed like that.

Today, I took a breath.
I stepped out.

I went to a mall I never cared for in the past.
But today, it looked new.
Exciting.
Alive.

It had changed—
more outlets, more food, more energy.

And I felt it too.
That spark.

Like I was 18 again, arriving in this city to study.
Hopeful. Curious. Ready.

I bought milk and coffee powder.
My heart whispered:
“These vegetables look fresh—let's get some for-tomorrow's meal.”

I visited the coffee shop—the one that wouldn’t refund me.

Buttercream latte has always been my go-to when I’m feeling down.
But today, I chose something new: a pistachio cream latte.

Because like the mall,
I had changed.
I renovated my heart. Refuse to repeat the wound from past.

Back home, I opened my laptop. 
The clock read 2:22 PM.
And the universe giggled softly:

“See? Trust me. I’ve always been here, with you.”

P/S: To the coffee shop staff: no, not yet. 

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