Coffee

The expiration date on the Starbucks Frappuccino I’m holding is February 11 ’08. I pop off the lid and take a long drink. Coffee has become a necessary evil for me the past few months. I don’t even like it anymore, but force myself to drink with the knowledge that personality, grades, and general ability to function all hinge on my ability to finish the bottle before second hour. Mochas seem more like a daily ration of cough syrup than treats—something to be gotten over with as quickly as possible.

This particular drink is vanilla-flavored, and it is not good. Only with the most valiant of efforts do I keep myself from gagging. Why did I ever elect to such an early class? Actually, the earliest one isn't the worst. The tiredness doesn't really hit until science a little later. But it looks like I’ll be sleeping through class again today, because there’s no way I can finish this.