Somehow, I stopped drinking coffee. Just stopped. Maybe it was because I lost touch with my best friend from high school who always sat across from me at Starbucks, or maybe it was because I had burned my tongue too many times. In some odd way, I just stopped thinking about coffee; I stopped craving it so clearly that I could smell it.
This, ironically, was right around the same time I started dating a true coffee addict. A four-cups-a-day-to-function-drink-it-straight-black kind of a guy. A few months later we started college, and I found myself surrounded by coffee addicts. I've been known to say before that coffee is the lifeblood of college students.
After all, I am housed in the school of journalism. But I was able to
rise above, sitting comfortably in my almost-random recovery with
my black tea.
But somehow, this summer I've started back. I think Starbucks knows, too, because I'm getting email coupons. I've had one or two cups a day the past two weeks, which translates to at least a 100% increase.
I'm not sure what this means, and I'm even more unsure if I should be wary of myself. Right now, I'm thinking this may be good for me. I'm already an insomniac, so now I have day energy, and I'm drinking more milk to cure the heartburn.