I, like most of humanity, have an inordinate love of being in control of myself. The anxiety of losing control might be one of man's (or woman's) deepest, and certainly one of the most common. For that reason, I hate caffeine with a passion. I remember (very hazily, I hated English lit classes) in my enforced middle school reading of To Kill A Mockingbird that woman who weaned herself of morphine as she was dying, so she could die "beholden to nobody"--or something like that. I'm obviously being a bit melodramatic here, but I really do understand that feeling. I'm just glad I've never gotten myself addicted to anything worse.
Every morning, I wake up bleary-eyed and exhausted, no matter how fulfilling a night's sleep I gave myself. The only cure for this? I'm drinking it right now, and even as I type, I can feel the warmth flooding my brain, the world slowly resolving itself into some semblance of sensibility, and the day's tasks turning from vague and terrifying prospects into a clear and ordered list. Sure enough, after a couple hours, the fog comes creeping back in, and I run for another cup like a rat with a fucking lever. This continues until about four or five p.m., when I crash hard, and no cuppa Joe can save me.
Addiction: its a pain in the ass.
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