it seems nigh impossible for me to stay happy with the status quo for long.
i've been drinking coffee, religiously, for a few weeks now and the inevitable of happening always happens: the withdrawal begins without my bidding. maybe it's just that i had half a cup that morning instead of a whole one. or that the coffee was ingested earlier in the day that i was accustomed to.
dry eyes, no appetite, a taut jaw, a head ache that is less a head ache than a vise applied right behind your eyes. inexplicable fatigue. early morning wakings, my subconscious body's response to some unhearable call -- the black lady herald of a steamy cup.
i can see the slope that is detox. it's long and steep, covered with rocks, pain, anger and lots of sleep. the way down from this coffee mountain, so to speak, is long and arduous and singular.
you would think that i could stay here, but i cannot. my body made the decision to leave. it's already started down the path way, and it will every day without fail unless i reaffirm my commitment to staying: a second cup in the afternoon. i'm not willing to dig in, to entrench myself further. for how long until that second cup becomes a third or a fourth? i can only imagine how much harder yet more violently you become compelled to escape then.
mm but my that does smell good. maybe i'll go off slowly. try sliding down the mountain on a steamy wave of short bursts? i can postpone; i'll start down, for real, on monday.
just a taste, i just need a taste.
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