coffee

why do i like coffee?

they taste absolutely vile. it's bitter, like those traditional chinese medicine brew. the ones i had at the modern kopitiam taste even worse than the chinese concoction. no amount of sugar or honey can cover up the taste in my mouth, which leaves my face contorted in the most unpleasant response. those at the chain coffee outlets are even worse; they leave me with a headache and a scratchy throat.

the after-effects are not even orgasmic. i don't get the reported 'high' or the sudden burst of alertness. if at all, i become even more paranoid and edgy.

so, why do i order the same thing, over and over again, despite the many unfinished cups and bitter experience? why do i ask for it automatically, like someone who has been hexed?

aside from the fact that my mouth obviously works faster than my brain, i think it's the rebellious side in me that's responsible for my lapse in better judgement. drinking coffee is like a cry against the pleasant side of me, which is pretty much like tea. i go down well, soothe the throat and gets comments like 'she's so sweet' from people. eventhough i believe they say that because they have nothing else nice to say about me, it still ticks me off. me, sweet?

if sweet is being silent so that people can talk on and on and monopolise the conversation, i'll raise my hand up in a jiffy. the way i figure it, i let most people talk. at the end of the talking marathon, with an appropriate nod from me and a 'hmmm' here and there, they realise they don't know anything about me. nothing to summarise me as a person. so, i'm called sweet....for lack of a better description.

so, coffee is my rebellion against sweetness. against the obedient, loyal and gentle side of me. i can't very well kick the dog by the side of the road, or slap the crying baby, so i drink coffee. it's my way of telling the world, i'm not really nice. you just don't know me yet.