I really don’t remember when did I actually get addicted to caffeine. Of late I have been wondering if it is the caffeine or the sugar in it. Last year, there was a John Oliver’s video about how overuse of sugar is much like the use of cocaine.
The biggest problem with caffiene addiction is that people will laugh at your face. But you know its addictive when you begin eating coffee powder before waking up from the bed. You know its addictive when your nerves starts rolling on to the edge of killing someone when you cross your time to have your daily fix.
Last month, I did address this issue with my mom and she also laughed at my face. This was also the phase when I was trying to be a tea-person. But my mother insisted that I drink coffee along with the family. After all it does not matter, if coffee is making you over-stressed and inducing a mild-hallucination as long as you drink it with your family.
Apart from all the harmful effects, making a good coffee is an art form. Much like you when you grow up, you discover love and pain, a coffee lover finds the right mix between coffee and sugar. I have never had a fascination for the hot bubbly water that makes it a strong concoction.
Step one is to find the right coffee for you. I prefer my chickmagulur ‘Prema’ coffee over the excessively commercial Bru instant. Bru instant was probably made for engineers who love to hoard IKEA stuff in their homes.
Step two is the preparation. With the wrong mix and little bit of vim, you can have a bad trip and several trips to the loo. I mean what if instead of going to Coffee-Land, you end up in some place like sleep paralysis or get stuck in a loop after taking the death-like pill DMT.
Step three is the drinking part. You wait for it cool down a bit and then chug it. Caffeine works quite the same way any alcohol does. You drink faster, the faster it affects your brain. The moment caffeine gets pumped into my brain through blood, I become softer than feather and I begin crying.It is like a therapeutic counselling session with my own self.
An audio recording of the process(I attached an audio file since I am still ‘.com’)
What makes my addiction worse is how it merges with the various unidentified mental illnesses that I have. One of them is called poetry. Poetry in its language of paradox ensures that I have quite an unhappy life. After all, there is no greater poetry than tragedy. If poetry is all about the rhythm, coffee makes sure that my sense are heightened enough to measure the rhythm around me.
Worst is when you cannot decide whether to have tea or coffee. And you keep shifting until your wash basin looks like abstract art of tea and coffee stains.