It started in my early twenties. I was married, but life could get stressful, tedious, and dull at times. I needed something more. Something to wake me up. That little spark that was missing.
I wasn’t looking for it when I found it the first time. I thought myself a moderate and temperate person. I thought I could get by without anything extra. But I was weaker than I thought, and once I got that first taste, I couldn’t get enough. Suddenly, the thing I didn’t even know I’d been looking for entered my life and things brightened considerably. I was hooked from the moment I dipped into that dark hot well of vibrant stimulation.
At first, it was only in the mornings. My husband left for work early, so he didn’t know about it. Most of the time, I’m ashamed to say, I partook at home. We lived in a small town and it was difficult to just go out and find it. It wasn’t like in big cities, where you find it on every corner, offered up with wanton abandon. I didn’t know where to go looking for it, so I brought it into our house, and drank deeply, wildly, without care or guilt.
Years passed. Sometimes I found myself indulging my illicit addiction at odd hours of the day, at times you wouldn’t expect it. I was playing a risky game, a dangerous one, but it got my blood pumping and my heart pounding. It woke my senses. I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. Sometimes I’d trawl public places, salivating, looking for it, needing it desperately.
These days I’m divorced, though I don’t blame my extracurricular activities because frankly, we never discussed it. I’m still at it, harder than ever. Now I indulge at all times, whenever I feel like it–morning, noon, night. Sometimes right before bed, which makes it hard to sleep. I live in a big city now and it’s everywhere, all around me. All kinds of ways to indulge. I never thought about all the different ways you could do it before. I keep trying it, never satisfied with sticking to one thing. And it still gives me a rush. A heady, wonderful, tingling rush that lights up my limbs and makes the world a decadent feast for the senses.
It’s been nearly two decades now and me and coffee are still going strong. I’m not afraid to admit it. I just hope you’ll understand and try not to judge me too harshly.