Dear Coffee,

I've found the key to masking your bitter taste; heavy cream plus bottled butterscotch toffee. I fear this is the beginning of my downfall, for now I'm drinking you more often than I should be.

You make me shaky sometimes. You make me sweaty sometimes. You make me paranoid sometimes.

I never brew coffee when I know I'll be alone for a while. I start thinking something is beyond every corner, down the dark hallway, always standing right behind me. In these instances, I make sure to curl up with a familiar movie, with my back to the wall, and a quilt to shield me from the scary make-believe monsters.

The crash afterwards is nice sometimes. I like drinking a big cup, working hard, and then collapsing into bed. I also like downing enough to kill me, doing nothing, and then falling straight to sleep afterwards. I can't decide which is nicer.

My mother can't drink too much, or else she panics. Her anxiety is a lot worse than mine. A few sips of you and she's up and doing lots of cleaning. Then she has to take a pill so she doesn't get cranky.

It's strange how you make everyone act differently. Strange how, depending on my body at that moment, my own actions differ. What will it be this time, my dastardly friend? Sweats? Shakes? Scares? Perhaps all three?

Though you're obviously very bad for me, music sounds so much sweeter when you're in my system. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but it feels true. I feel like I can hear so much more. Or maybe you just gave me the focus I needed to truly listen to the background.

You can tell a lot about a person by what coffee they drink.

"I bet you'll buy the sweetest drink here," one boy told me, and he was right. It was cute.

Oh coffee, I'm already a little dizzy. I just cleaned my entire house, and now I'm going to go on a mad drawing frenzy.

Thanks, coffee.

Sincerely,

Crazed Caffeine Caricature