beating myself bc i'm not following others' expectations or even my own expectations of what i SHOULD be doing when in reality nothing really matters and i can do whatever i want

i've been eating pretty much, a bowl of pasta, one coffee, a bag of chips and a bottle of wine a day bc that's all my social anxiety of talking to strangers allows

i can't hear this shitty jimmy fallon and ashley benson interview over the sound of my chips crunching

restaurant with a disco ball part 2

UPDATE:
I have eaten a significant amount of pasta and I can't stop watching this bad powerpoint of the night at AM to PM. It's open 24 hours, can you imagine?

I thought I should force myself to meet people and hang out with people. but i came alone, to work out what's going on in my head. That's the trip I wanted. I wanted to write.
I wish i could make up stories. but everything i write is so true. i can't make stuff up. it feels so generic, like lying. I want to go shopping but idk where to go and my foot hurts so bad. Should I order another merlot? i wanna kiss someone but I can't be fucked talking to anyone. What am I doing with my life? I have to stop asking that question. let it happen, gem.
It's funny, when you travel alone you are pretty much void of others influence. People that know you. It's a really good way to get to know yourself and know how you feel about things. I would even say you are the most yourself when you travel alone.

restaurant with a disco ball part 1

the city is cold
I can feel the wind whipping away at my skin
my ankle burns
i stare
i haven't blinked for a long time
Why is there electro music everywhere in Berlin? This is a fancy restaurant.
but there's a disco ball and
ELECTRO MUSIC
there's a candle on the table and I am drinkingi red wine.
What is this place?
Tourism. Must be what the people want.
I'm the only one here, this is so weird. I'm the worst tourist.
I accidentally saw the wall, the berlin wall.
I don't care about the rest, the museums, the tours. I can read that online. I just like being in another place, with total freedom, and getting drunk at midday everyday whilst piling spaghetti into my mouth.
There's a giant LCD screen on the wall that says "PARTY TIME!!!"
I'm the only one here.
The restaurant/bar/club???? is called Am to PM.
Like the song. Is that a song? It should be. Or maybe it shouldn't be. I'm sure this place goes off in the summer. This restaurant/bar/club???, berlin, europe.
I like the winter, it's more honest.
The LCD screen is now showing footage of a male stripper humping the chair that, oh, the chair that I'm on right now. This place does go off in the summer?

alone and happy as fuck

I'm not going to think about it.
Think about what?
Him...it...NOT thinking about it.
Him with her?
I'm not thinking about it.

A German man is sharing my table. Please don't talk to me. I don't mean to be rude but I came here to be alone. To think thoughts you can't think around others. I begin to think a thought and I edit myself. You are alone, Gemma. Alone in this continent, alone in this country, alone in this city, alone in this Starbucks - except for the man sitting at your table - alone in your mind. You are free. Free to think whatever you please. I need to get out of my head. Stay in my head but think about things other than in my own head.

This is my second time in two days at this Starbucks. Writing. I write so much. Hundreds of thousands of words. Would anyone read it? How can I turn my words into a story? Into content others will enjoy? I write for myself but I want to learn how to write for others. About others.

I'm writing a story/play/script about 4 girls that live together. Their names are Essie, Blake, Amy and Mia. I will write a monologue for each of them perhaps.

There are so many spare seats at this cafe. Why is he sitting with me? I'm not approachable. I wonder if he wants to talk to me? Why do so many middle aged men want to talk to me? Why do so little 20 year old men want to talk to me? Why is everyone in relationships? We are so young? Maybe they are happier than me? I'm pretty happy though. Maybe I'm jealous? Maybe I'm still subconsciously in love with my ex boyfriend and therefore cannot find comfort in others. Maybe that's the case. That is the case. I'm a little lonely perhaps. No, I don't think I am. I've never been a cliché before now. I am. I hate it. but the fact that I hate it is what makes me a cliché. A hipster. Dammit. I'm happy though. I'm so content. I'm in love with my friends. I'm safe. I have nothing to complain about. Except Australia Day. Australia Day makes me sick. Change the flag, fuckers.

Starbucks Cliché in Berlin

Beautiful people.

Curly hair boy with big fur coat. 

Long haired blonde. girl.

Long haired blonde. girl.

Long haired blonde. boy.

Boy with strange half pony tail. 

I am anxious they know I'm writing about them.

Beautiful people. 

I'm nervous. 

Look at me. 

I can be whoever I want to be.

I know no one in this city. I'm such a cliché. 

Writing in a Starbucks. I'm not even a writer. Well, I guess to be a writer you must write. I write. 

They are leaving. 

They didn't look at me.