Attempts at Adulthood #1

A lot of my childhood was spent trying to be an adult. I would see things my parents and their friends would do; things I didn’t understand; and I would attempt to emulate the behavior just so I could feel all old and cool.

Adults drink coffee.

Freshman year of high school, I decided to start drinking coffee.

 

 

I felt so cool and aloof with that cup of coffee emanating warmth in my 14 year-old hand. I thought, “Now I can go hang around bookstores and pretend to read Chekhov”.

I could walk into a cafe and have conversations with people wearing blazers that have leather elbows about current events such as John Kerry’s rectangular head, before I get kicked out for bringing in coffee from some place else.

Never mind that my mom made it for me to take on the school bus along with my bagged lunch. And that it was two-thirds milk and had sugary coconut flavoring.

I was cool with my coffee.

I was cool with the way I would hold my coffee.

 

THE LOOSE UNDER-FINGERED GRASP:

 

THE THUMB-BOTTOMED OVER-CLASP:

 

THE HUG:

 

After a few weeks of drinking coffee, I took some serious consideration about how I could possibly enjoy this disgusting concoction.

It was scalding hot and always scorched my tongue, it made me feel like The Flash for an hour before making me feel like Eeyore, and it tasted like fermented cat bile.

I was only drinking it because that’s what the adults drank. Ultimately, the total lack of enjoyability over-powered the cool adult persona I had acquired and so I decided to stop drinking coffee altogether.

Plus, it gave me loud and vengeful diarrhea.

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