Friday, September 3, 2010

Dear Coffee . . .an open dear john letter

Dear Coffee,

We need to talk. No doubt that I feel good when we are together. I'm a little giddy. I miss you when you are not around. I think about you a lot. Right after we're together, my heart beats so hard, I think people standing near me can hear it.

I love the way you smell.

You are beautiful in everything you wear. And when you wear those see-through little Starbucks numbers - whoah!

And then we fight.

You burn me. From the inside. We've tried taking it slow. We've tried rushing things. Hot or cold. Sweet or straight. It always ends the same. My heart races. I crash. Crash and burn.

Remember that time you were all like, "Let's give it another shot." And I was like, "I've heard that one before." And you were all, "No. No. Look, I'm clean. Decaffed. You can handle this." But it wasn't long before I was curled up in a ball with those shooting pains in my veins and you just sat there and said, "Wuss."

Then you were like, "Take me back. I've changed. I'm gentler. Smoother. I was made for you." I was all like "What do you mean? Is that some kind of soul mate, marketing thing? You know I don't buy that crap." And you kept at it with, "Just give me another chance. It won't be like it was."

I wake up, pounding on my chest with a fist full of crushed Tums and I am hitting the stuff like it's Pixie sticks.

You even tried to make me think it was all my fault. You were all, "You're so cheap, you know that? I mean, you have to drop a little cash to get quality. You get what you pay for. You wonder why you get hurt."

You've even started showing up everywhere. Man that's awkward. I can't go get a donut. I can't go get breakfast at McDonald's. I can't even go to Paradise Bakery. I mean there you were, all fancied up, just chilling, looking all sweet, but did you even look at yourself? That giant straw made you look like a whore.

I know I sound bitter, but you're the one who's bitter and I'll be honest, I like that a little bit. A little sweet and a little bitter. What's not to love? But you're acidic. You are corrosive to me.

I know it shouldn't go on like this but I know I am weak. I mean, it's just like at Paradise the other day. I could just get a smoothie. I know it would be better for me. But there you are. Looking so cool and sweet and ready to go. What am I supposed to do? You were right about me. I am a wuss. I know my heart will burn from you. Everytime. And I'll be back. I like the rush. The thrill. The bitter sweet hell of your warming charge.

You'll be the death of me.

Want to go for a drink?

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