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Confessions of a coffee-holic

Hello, my name is Danielle, and I am a coffee addict. I have been the subject of interventions, watched my debit card balance drop to double digits, and spent sleepless nights waiting for the caffeine to pass out of my system, but nothing has been reason enough to stand between me and coffee. As long as there’s coffee, things really can’t be that bad.

My love for coffee did not just develop overnight; it was a gradual process that evolved over many years. It started in middle school when, like any other pre-teen, I indulged in Starbucks frappuccinos, which, in hindsight, should not even be considered coffee. Slowly but surely, my coffee intake turned to lattes, a phase that lasted about two years. As my workload increased, I found that doing homework at my local Starbucks eliminated distractions, and in about two months I found myself to be the proud owner of a Starbucks gold card. The rewards system on the Starbucks iPhone application made it even more appealing, for I would get a free drink every twelve items bought and unlimited refills of coffee and tea with every purchase. Starbucks was practically calling my name.

Coffee only became more vital when I signed up for a zero period class this year. My body was not used to waking up at such an ungodly hour, so my caffeine intake increased to black coffee—no room for milk. In order to be able to clearly think in Mr. Virmani’s zero period statistics course, my morning coffee was no longer a luxury—it was a necessity. The fact that Philz is right across the street from my house hasn’t helped my growing addiction either, for the smell of freshly brewed coffee beans practically wafts into my bedroom window every morning. Furthermore, 6:30 a.m. is the only time during the day that Philz does not have a line extending halfway across the block, so passing up such a golden opportunity seems like a crime.

Now, coffee has become my life line and my way to stay on track during the ups and down of junior year. A steaming cup of Pumpkin Spice Latte warms my soul as I take my APUSH notes, and a Mint Mojito from Philz actually makes writing essays on Shakespeare fun (don’t judge me). The rush of caffeine spurs me to study for my SATs and soothes the nauseousness as I dive into yet another critical reading section. I can even meet up with my friends when doing work, providing some vague resemblance of a social life.

Coffee is more than a drink; it’s a lifestyle. I have made peace with the fact that I will forever remain at the short height of five-foot-two and that I might have to pass up some shopping trips with my friends to save for my coveted study time. In the end it’s all worth it, for calling myself a coffee drinker makes me feel empowered and mature. I can see myself ten years from now, rushing to important business meetings and catching cabs, coffee cup in hand. It suggests that I have places to be and people to meet, even if that may not actually be the case. It says I’m serious and determined. It says I’m going places. It also says that I simply love coffee.

And yes, I did write this article while drinking a large Silken Splendor at Philz.

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