Coffee: The Super Hero of Beverages!

Coffee:

Just for the record, coffee is not your friend. Coffee is a liar.

To be fair, perhaps coffee isn't lying. Perhaps it actually believes it's your friend. It believes this in the same way that a drunken stranger believes you are her friend as she grabs you by the arm and drags you onto the dance floor at a wealthy cousin's wedding. Maybe it believes this in the same way that a stranger on the bus believes you are friends and helps his or herself to one of your pretzel bites. Or maybe it believes none of these things but feels as though it's simply being kind.

I could analyze coffee's motives all day, which says more about me than it does about coffee. However, regardless of what coffee believes, it is not my friend. What's more, I resent ever coming to know it!

Ah! But it smells so good! Just like flowers from a younger man, fresh baked bread, and other peoples babies. For the record: none of those things is your friend either. They're all big, baited traps!

Just like life.

I don’t mean to sound cynical, but life is full of big, snappy traps, and coffee is one of them! It's the beverage equivalent of an idiot who promises to throw you a life preserver (presumably when you are drowning in fatigue) but in reality doesn't know the difference between a life preserver and an anvil. My point, I suppose, is that coffee can't save you. You're in it to the end! Every last inglorious, exhausting minute of it!

For the record, by it I mean life, and by the end I mean death.

How come death can't smell as good as coffee? Oh, right. "The earth must be peopled!" At least that's what Shakespeare said. That must be why death stinks and babies smell good. It's also why I drink coffee! Because I sniffed the flowers, baked some bread, and smelled a sweet, clean, innocent little baby. Then I stepped stupidly into the trap, and coffee, the worthless imbecile, has yet to save me!

I guess I can’t complain. What can one truly expect a hot beverage to accomplish? It has no way of knowing that it isn’t truly helping you. It has no way of knowing anything at all. So why does it feel so good to blame my lack of energy on coffee? Why does it seem perfectly reasonable to hold coffee responsible for my slacking morning swag?

Perhaps coffee isn’t the liar afterall. Maybe I’m the liar. I suppose I could just as easily blame my disgusting sleep hygiene, which, were it physical hygiene would be on par with that of an insane baboon. Equally to blame may be my lack of an evening routine and self discipline.

Wait! I’m clearly losing my focus here. I mean, who cares if I spend far too much time reading pointless books, perusing social media, or playing video games? Seriously what self-respecting “adult” wants to go to bed at a reasonable hour? Isn’t that what being a grown-up is all about? Staying up as late as you please, doing what you want, whenever you want to regardless of tomorrow?

No, no! Coffee is definitely to blame! It promises wakefulness and life and energy and joy every, single, morning! Its promises are carried on that magnificent whiff of magical aroma! Every gurgle of the coffee maker promises me a productive day! It lures me in, and I believe it! So I take a sip, and then another. And another.

Nothing. No glorious transformation. No tingles of energy rushing into my extremities. No angels bathing me in miraculous light. No, simply nothing but a worthless ritual that, when neglected, leaves me with a cracking headache.

So, no, coffee is not a friend. It is a lie. A wonderfully aromatic, full-bodied, socially accepted lie, and all of its promises are baited traps.

Excuse me. I need to go grab another cup of coffee.