Caffeine
It is 9:00 A.M. on a Monday morning. By this time, many people are out and about, fully charged. I am still snug in bed, sleeping like a log. The alarm begins to beep. I press the snooze button. Nine minutes later, it beeps again. I press the snooze. One more time. Beep. Snooze. Finally, pressing the button has drained my energy and the next time it begins to beep, it goes on for a good five minutes. The incessant beeping pounds on my brain so I get up, unplug my alarm, crawl out of bed, and to my closet. Thus, the struggle through the day begins. Yet, this morning picture isn't the same picture of happiness and energy that I usually am at about 11:30 A.M. This drastic change is due to one word. This one word brings light to the eyes of non-morning people. This word means hope. This word is coffee. I've become addicted to the frothy warm drink. Five minutes late to class, I still have to stop by the cafeteria to fill up a 16 oz. Styrofoam cup. Without it, my day is in . . .
They have come to accept that they like me better when I'm on coffee as opposed to the times that I am not. When I smell its sweet perfume, my heart jumps. In class, I shift in my seat constantly. It told me to try and climb that tree. It is available at school, at gas stations, and at home. My hands being to ache after five minutes due to the amount of pressure I'm applying to my pen. People that don't know me think that I've got some mental disorder and get scared when I come near. " People stare at me like I'm some sort of crazed maniac. The day that coffee runs out will be the day I run out. I am currently waiting for my exam grade to see if it really is "too easy.
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