Caffeine Overdose

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Never been a coffee lover, I was.
Couldn’t understand what’d people find in those black liquid except the bitterness that numbing the tongue. I used to think that nothing was special, just merely a drink with a great dose of caffeine that I might need, once in a while. Oh, of course with the additional lots of cream and sugar and caramel and many more. Put it as much as it permitted to, I shall enjoyed better.

Wasn’t a coffee lover, I was.
Till one night, a person came arriving with a cup of Toraja coffee to offer; and there it was, my first cup of coffee of all. She told me how great coffee is, how magical and beautiful at the same time; we just need to discover something good that hiding underneath. A good coffee should not be bitter, it should be good and exciting. So I tried. The bitterness was still overwhelmed, but through sip by sip, I let myself to ride the journey within its cup and admitted… she’s right. Since then, coffee would never be the same; it was special and so she was.

Was a coffee lover, I thought.
Within time, I learnt to enjoy every sips of it. No bitterness to be complained, no more additional sugar added throughout times. Coffee is enjoyable without too much artificial flavors interfering, and so life is. It should be cappuccino to begin the ordinary morning, and another cup as a companion within days and nights. Coffee was enjoyable, it offered a shelter to heart, a space within time.

Was a coffee lover, within break, I thought I was.
As pregnancy came around, I decided to take a break from a lot of things I used to enjoy most. I took every caution warning to its extreme by cutting down everything that might harm-able to the fetus inside; raw fish, instant food, cigarets, alcohol, also caffein. They said a little dose is okay, but I wouldn’t take a risk and there time went flying. Nine months of pregnancy to the delivery then about one year of breastfeeding, still none of coffee intake I took on daily basis. None of her presence as well. But coffee could wait, I thought, and so does our time together.

Was a coffee lover, I might.
The unpredictable side of life finally found its way to shake the peaceful day in time. As the weary heart sought for a shelter I once knew, I ordered the first cup of Toraja coffee after nearly two years of abstinence. The bitterness once again overwhelmed the tongue, as I endured myself to find the beauty within. I closed my eyes to feel its taste and broke it down to every little sensation I experienced. There was a magical space created. as every sips brought back lots of memories to the point of realization.

Not a coffee lover, I am.
Yes. I’m still not. The last Toraja just reminded me so; I never really been one. It’s not the coffee that I love, not the coffee itself that special in life. It’s good, but okay. That’s her; her passion for coffee, her eyes that shined brighter whenever she explained anything about coffee, her passionate voice as she spoke about the coffee on her mind, her smile after sipping the good coffee in front, and our time sitting together over cups of coffee. She’s the special one, and being attached as an inseparable part of her life, coffee turned special as well.
None could replace her, and no reason could change that matter of fact, even the bitter one. That’s her, that I love and treasure on.

Not a coffee lover, I know.
But lately, at the point I couldn’t eat anything, yet it’s only coffee that I could allow myself to consume these last few days. I do wonder. Am I unconsciously still searching for the comfort feeling that once it offered me?

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