Why did I even TRY?
So. You will be enlightened to know that I cannot bear drinking coffee. My latest attempt was fruitless.
Oh, I have always longed to be one of the caffeine-enriched, those lucky souls who speak so lovingly of the hot beverages that revitalise and energise them. They are like mages of some sort, finding mana to give them strength to endure the world, even in those itty-bitty nasty hours that turn normal people bleary-eyed and droopy.
I have longed for that sudden buzz, the way they seem to come alive after imbibing this mysterious substance. And yet...I cannot.
Oh, I envy them, but when it comes to that vital moment, I shrink back. The smell repels me. My cautious sips bring me only grimaces of distaste.
Now, to the details of my most recent attempt; this very night. My mother brought home powders to create mudcake-flavoured lattes. One merely opens a single tube of it and adds boiling water, combined with some milk. I saw my sister's enjoyment. I smelled the powder, and it cried out to my ancient weakness:
Chocolate. This treacherous substance had the perfidy to carry a tempting chocolate scent.
And so, biding my time, I chose this unfortunate night to experiment. Ah, the chocolate smell of the powder. My sister's comments had led me to believe that the drink tasted more of chocolate than of coffee. Perhaps, I mused, this would be the key. Perhaps I had found a viable means of ingesting caffeine.
Yet when I added the hot water, that distinctive coffee smell became clearer and clearer. I added milk, and steeled myself to sip my drink. Coffee. No more than the barest taste of chocolate, serving only as a cruel mockery of my dashed hopes. Mudcake indeed, oh deceptive packaging? Mudcake, when cake of this delectable flavour normally has not the tinge of coffee overpowering it and subsuming it even unto mere traces? No, this was not mudcake-flavoured, not in the least.
Regretting the waste, I poured away the drink that had so disappointed me. As I did so, I wondered what under the stars I had been thinking. Coffee, at nearly ten at night? Honestly? Was I hoping to render myself utterly incapable of sleeping, a nightmarish and overactive demon of unnatural energy? Not, I hasten to add, that such a diabolical transformation would frighten me; indeed, I would relish it, save only for the fact that monstrous conversions of energy are, alas, rather hard on my all too human form.
Instead, I made myself a glass of Milo and warm milk, a far more calming and tasty alternative, and returned to my room to share this knowledge here and now.
I, who cannot stomach alcohol and do not drink Coca-Cola or Pepsi...I drink lemonade.
I, who cannot bear to drink tea or coffee...must choose Milo.
I do not consume the drinks that adults are entitled to, though I am of an age to do so. Perhaps it will always be this way, choosing things more suited to a child because of my taste-buds' apparent rejection of the adult world.
I will never be a caffiend. This source of power is ever denied to me.
This is my knowledge, my discovery. This, and one final truth:
Mudcake-flavoured latte was a falsehood.
Why did I even try? For verily, the mudcake...was a lie.
Oh, I have always longed to be one of the caffeine-enriched, those lucky souls who speak so lovingly of the hot beverages that revitalise and energise them. They are like mages of some sort, finding mana to give them strength to endure the world, even in those itty-bitty nasty hours that turn normal people bleary-eyed and droopy.
I have longed for that sudden buzz, the way they seem to come alive after imbibing this mysterious substance. And yet...I cannot.
Oh, I envy them, but when it comes to that vital moment, I shrink back. The smell repels me. My cautious sips bring me only grimaces of distaste.
Now, to the details of my most recent attempt; this very night. My mother brought home powders to create mudcake-flavoured lattes. One merely opens a single tube of it and adds boiling water, combined with some milk. I saw my sister's enjoyment. I smelled the powder, and it cried out to my ancient weakness:
Chocolate. This treacherous substance had the perfidy to carry a tempting chocolate scent.
And so, biding my time, I chose this unfortunate night to experiment. Ah, the chocolate smell of the powder. My sister's comments had led me to believe that the drink tasted more of chocolate than of coffee. Perhaps, I mused, this would be the key. Perhaps I had found a viable means of ingesting caffeine.
Yet when I added the hot water, that distinctive coffee smell became clearer and clearer. I added milk, and steeled myself to sip my drink. Coffee. No more than the barest taste of chocolate, serving only as a cruel mockery of my dashed hopes. Mudcake indeed, oh deceptive packaging? Mudcake, when cake of this delectable flavour normally has not the tinge of coffee overpowering it and subsuming it even unto mere traces? No, this was not mudcake-flavoured, not in the least.
Regretting the waste, I poured away the drink that had so disappointed me. As I did so, I wondered what under the stars I had been thinking. Coffee, at nearly ten at night? Honestly? Was I hoping to render myself utterly incapable of sleeping, a nightmarish and overactive demon of unnatural energy? Not, I hasten to add, that such a diabolical transformation would frighten me; indeed, I would relish it, save only for the fact that monstrous conversions of energy are, alas, rather hard on my all too human form.
Instead, I made myself a glass of Milo and warm milk, a far more calming and tasty alternative, and returned to my room to share this knowledge here and now.
I, who cannot stomach alcohol and do not drink Coca-Cola or Pepsi...I drink lemonade.
I, who cannot bear to drink tea or coffee...must choose Milo.
I do not consume the drinks that adults are entitled to, though I am of an age to do so. Perhaps it will always be this way, choosing things more suited to a child because of my taste-buds' apparent rejection of the adult world.
I will never be a caffiend. This source of power is ever denied to me.
This is my knowledge, my discovery. This, and one final truth:
Mudcake-flavoured latte was a falsehood.
Why did I even try? For verily, the mudcake...was a lie.