bad metaphor

My relationship with coffee ended with a whimper, not a bang. It used to be that I never got my fill, sipping from the black well as if it were bottomless and the flow of caffeine would never, ever end. Gradually, the mug emptied and one day I didn’t come back for a refill. “Coffee just makes me feel jittery and awful,” I observed, noting the unsteadiness of my outstretched hands. I decided it wasn’t worth being awake at such cost. Sure, I continued to appreciate the earthy aroma of the grounds, but when offered any would refuse, because of the memory of a tremble.

Thereafter followed a two year long period in which I wasn’t quite asleep, per se, but never really all that awake either. Whenever I would feel tired I’d go to my standard fallback – “Earl Gray, hot.” Delicious, no stain on breath or unsettled nerves, a gentle perfume. Every now and then I’d splurge and get an iced coffee (one of the few highlights in some areas. It would taste good, but never enough to tempt me into a daily habit*. A routine.

For whatever reason, last week I decided to revisit the old caffeinated flame. Rekindle the spark. My co-worker asked if I’d like some coffee, as she’d made extra, and my sleepy, weak-willed self said “yes.” Upon the first sip of the brackish, black liquid, my eyes fluttered open. I quickly remembered what it was like to be productive, and proceeded to race through work projects that had been languishing on a corner of my desk for days.

Oh, to be awake again! It’s as if I’d been drowned for two years and suddenly revived.

Since then I’ve been hitting the coffee shop in Wescoe every morning. At first it was a small cup, now I’ve graduated to a “Venti.” As thrilled as I am about my renewed state of coffee-consciousness, I am starting to notice, already, the signs of dependence. When the caffeine leaves my system, I am left feeling more drained than ever. The only thing that can restore me to rightness is another cup. And the shuddering is resurfacing.

Ah, beware – the wonders and dangers of the magic potion.

* I don’t count iced coffee as coffee, much like how iced tea isn’t really tea, but some sort of sugary liquid confection. Call me crazy but it doesn’t seem to affect me in the same way.