Coffee, oh coffee – how I could sing of my love for you. You have been my faithful companion for well over a decade. You woke me up for an untold number of mornings, the scent of your brewing heralding a new day. Every time I’ve had to give you up, it was horribly difficult. You smell so good, taste so wonderful, and go so well with cream and sugar. You are one of my best friends, a true partner in life.
But maybe we should have some more time apart.
It’s not that I don’t still love and cherish you, but you might not be the best thing for me. I had you in short bursts through the weekend, but even in small doses you made my heart pound and my nerves sing. It felt good frankly, but afterward… I was hollow.
You’re a drug, coffee, and that can be a good thing – but also a dangerous thing. Tea doesn’t make me twitch. Tea doesn’t make me irritable. Tea is quiet and patient. I can linger over tea for an hour or more, but coffee – you’re there and then you’re gone and I want more more more, nevermind the dry throat, the jitteriness, the sleeplessness and crankiness.
Our brief reuinion might have caused my HS resurgence this week, and that’s really not cool. No – I know I can’t fully pin it on you and my instincts are telling me it wasn’t you, but for my own health I need to be sure. I’ll be fair to you and give you a second chance. But in small doses. And not for a few more weeks.
It’s not you – it’s me. No, wait, it’s you. You’re just not the best thing for me, coffee.
But maybe we can still be friends?