Lost in "my" Paris

Paris was where the good looking guys didn't matter and the writing only did. Where sitting down, alone, in a coffee shop was the best thing to do on the weekends. It's where writing was the only thing you could think of, and the thinking would never stop.

But this was only "my" Paris

My first day in Paris seemed familiar, it felt like I was there before. Maybe in my dreams. I remember walking in with only two seats in back, one was by the guy I used to like in middle school; I should've tried something new. I should've sat by the weird kid in the very corner, but he kind of creeped me out.

But Paris helped me find myself. I wanted to speak up and I wanted to sit in the back with the weird kid now. I'd find myself falling in love with the smell of coffee and the brightness of the streets at night. & in Paris I still loved the way he'd look at me, even though he wasn't ever looking. 

I wanted to stay in Paris forever but I was lost.