Dear Coffee: A Letter

Dear Coffee,

This is hard for me to communicate, because I really do love you.  I can’t think of starting my day without you.  But I think we need to end our relationship.

We’ve been together a long time, haven’t we?  We met in college, freshmen year.  I had stayed up till early in the morning studying for my Philosophy 101 final, and you ran me over.  I had never tried anything like you before.  You were fun and exciting.  You had so much variety.  All those other drinks wore too much sugar or artificial ingredients.  But you.  You were bold, and you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.  I was drawn to your originality.

Part of what was so interesting about you is that you had travelled so much.  You had seen the world.  Ethiopia, Hawaii, Turkey, Columbia, Peru, Nicaragua.  Yes, this made it hard at times, since you seemed to flip personalities like a switch.  On Monday you’d be Italian, on Tuesday French, Wednesday dark, Thursday light.  But all your traveling did have it’s advantages.  You really knew how to blend well with others.

One thing that kept it exciting is that you had so many different names.  Sometimes you asked me to call you Breve.  Other times, Espresso.  And of course, my favorite, Mocha Latte.  You were a mystery to me.  And yet, you were unmistakable.

But as time went on, I think I got a little too attached.  At first we were seeing each other a few times a week.  But soon enough I needed you everyday.  It seemed harmless at first, and the withdrawal symptoms were not worth it too me.  So I kept going.

I was in a good routine.  You and a bagel with butter every morning.  But then life got more stressful and I wanted more of you.  I started emptying my pockets after lunch just to scrounge together enough change to buy you.  Then after dinner I found I couldn’t get by without you and and some sweet delight.

What was once exciting had become routine.  You became commonplace.  Where I once appreciated your variety and boldness, it eventually became “any old you” to get me through.  I didn’t care if you were stale or rancid.  That could easily be covered up.

So where does that leave us?  I am saying goodbye, but I don’t know if this is goodbye for good.  I sure hope not.

Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying.  It’s not you.  It’s me.  I just have some things I need to work on in myself.  I’ll understand if you move on.  I would too, if I were you.  I’m not worth it.

Please don’t try to call or text or show up in my kitchen cabinet.  I don’t think I’d be able to handle the temptation.  I think it’s best if we grind this thing to a halt.




Leave a Comment

  1. Joe,
    I admire your boldness to stand in the face of those oily black beans and say “I no longer need you”. I hope to hear an update from you soon and to be assured that you have not since turned back.

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