The bright red glow of my alarm clock burned into my blurry vision. 6:01 a.m. Today will be a long day. School at 7:45 a.m., not just today but everyday and after school deadline is tonight. It’s late night too. I forgot about my chapter test for online health. I’ll have to do it before I leave for school.
I’m going to need a lot of coffee.
I believe in coffee, in caffeine and the miracles it works.
I am new to this belief because unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) I no longer believe in sleep.
And as a junior in high school, sleep isn’t a huge priority mainly because it isn’t something that can be found in abundance.
So, I believe in coffee. Not because it makes me look cool. Quite frankly, standing there with my orange and pink coffee mug in my hand and bags big enough to carry luggage under my eyes isn’t really a trend setter.
No, I believe in coffee because it gets me through the days when sleep doesn’t exist, the days that never end. The days that begin at 5 a.m. and end at midnight. That’s when I believe in coffee the most.
Nine classes and lunch. AVID zero hour and online health. Newspaper: editing stories and deadlines. When my alarm clock goes off I am forced out of sleep, pressing the snooze button is never an option, pressing the snooze button would be academic suicide.
This isn’t insanity. This is my life. Forgive me if I’ve just given you a headache, but I’ve become immune to that.
Now do you understand my belief in coffee?
Tired is my least favorite word on the planet. I hate using that word, admitting to defeat and giving in to exhaustion. Just saying the word wastes time. Saying it doesn’t make me less sleepy.
My belief in coffee keeps me awake, keeps me moving, keeps me going. There is no time to waste in my life; every moment is valuable. Worth far more than gold or diamonds.
I believe in coffee because coffee shares my beliefs.
Beliefs that seem to be genetic. Coffee has been part of my life since I was five years old.
Ten years ago my mother discovered a new world of coffee. Exciting flavors and smells that awakened her senses and stimulated her mind, as a single mother of three she needed coffee. Ten years later my mother rivals Starbucks in art of coffee making. She makes my coffee, pouring it into my orange and pink mug and adding cinnamon and sugar and white chocolate flavored creamer.
This is my belief, this is my history and this is why I am functioning.
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