A cup of coffee and 5 bags
For years I have drank a cup of coffee in the morning.
So often that first sip is hot and gratifying. What I notice is that usually the last third of the cup does not seem as inviting, it has lost its appeal. Now I have come up with various reasons for this and the first I held as a belief for a long time, is that it is cooling and therefore not as satisfying. To some extent that may be true, but at times even the hottest coffee loses its zing after the first half. You might think, well you have had enough and so the desire has past. Though true sometimes, usually it is with a sense of mild irritation that I reach for the half cup, I want the thrill of that first sip, the joy of the hot aroma, the rush of caffeine with a promise of comforting stimulation. But even before I take that inferior portion of the beverage, I am disappointed.
Chasing the high
I heard in a meeting someone talking about how even before his last can of beer he was worrying about running out. For me, running out of heroin was a daily inevitability. Still it is true that having 5 bags gave me a sense of ease and comfort; as well as the thrill of expectation knowing the relief I was about to experience. The second was in hope of increasing the effect and usually in disappointment was followed by the third and fourth. With resentful determination I attempted to re reach the dizzy heights of the first.
So there I am staring at the 5th and last bag. I have already assassinated the guy I bought it from, for obviously he had messed with at least 3 of them and probably this last ball of grey was going to be as bad. With fatal resignation, tinged with regret, anger and disappointment I used the last bag.
My finely tuned mind had deduced that the last one would be practically useless and I was right!
Who to blame
The only consolation being a vague sense of superiority in having predicted the result, I am sat with a fierce resentment. (expressed by a slight quiver in my near catatonic form) Aimed firstly at the dealer, with a queue of recipients waiting to be dealt with and causing trouble in the corridors of my mind. Likely to cause irreparable damage if not subdued and bent to my will, I concocted elaborate scenarios in which their demise was assured and reparations made.
Thankfully, I have found recovery and do not live in that painful quagmire of burning resentment, fear and dismay that was my world for many years. As time goes by, the truth is still being revealed and I am thankful for being able to ponder the root of my under performing last half cup of coffee experience.
When asked is my cup half full? I smile
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