Four Espresso Shots in a Venti Cup

Probably didn’t make a difference – all that coffee. Four espresso shots in that venti cup. I always romanticise that shit. I’m going to drink coffee and feel awake and be able to read and not fall asleep. I’ll be able to make use of the two hours I have between my internship and work and when I get to work I’ll be able to function too. I’ll be alert and awake and not spend the whole shift trying not to fall asleep. This will be great. The hell it is. And now I sound like the people in the book I’m reading for my anthropology class who say goddammit and hell in at least every other sentence, who yell with crusty voices – who always yell – and scream and shout everything.


I’m just trying to finish this damn semester. (There I go again.) And I’m not even supposed to be at work right now. But I really want to get a social work job after I graduate in May, so I think I have to go to this event on Thursday – when I’m really supposed to be working – so I asked to have my shift changed to today. And I’m tired.


But the semester is almost over, so I just need to hang in there, which I think I can do. I mean, I have to. And then there’s next semester and graduation and moving and South Korea and grad school and I don’t even know why I keep thinking about this stuff when it’s so far away. I mean it’s not really far away, but I have pressing matters at hand right now that I really need to pay attention to. But making trouble for myself looks like something I’m good at doing.

No, probably didn’t make much difference – those four espresso shots in that venti cup.


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