Coffee

Is evil.  No but yesterday, I drank regular, caffeinated coffee for the first time in, well, awhile.  I knew I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t care.  I did it anyway.  (Sound familiar?)  I added three packs of sugar to it, or maybe four.  Anyhow, it tasted alright.  I didn’t sleep well last night, barely becoming horizontal at midnight and surfing the net until my weary over-stimulated self decided enough was enough and went to sleep.

I woke up with not the best of thoughts, and upon retelling the story to MK, received a “You should know better” in response.  Yeah, I should, right?  I should know better, especially after all those books I read about caffeine and lack of sleep and depression and anxiety.  But maybe a part of me felt strong and wanted to test it.  And I think I’m glad that I did.

Well I got home, and did not feel like doing a-n-y-thing.  Should I organize my cabinet?  Nah.  Study for the GREs?  Nah.  Clean up my closet?  Nah.  Go out with a friend?  Nah.  My eyes ached a little, a feeling that brought me straight back to the FTTA, you know, where every waking second was spent with less than stellar sleep the night before, and eye creams were introduced to my life.  Speaking of eye creams, I have since given them up after graduating.

So the point is, I should not drink coffee.  I need my sleep.  Without sleep, I no longer function very well nor care to.

The End.  How’s that for monumental and inspiring.

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