I once smoked so many
cones I didn't even know whose car I was illegally driving as I delivered our crew of giggling space cadets to the
cricket.
I once spent a full week doing nothing but drinking obscene quantities of
beer and sleeping on assorted people's couches.
I once ate the flesh of a raw
cactus for no better reason than a friend, eerily
Ozzy-like, told me it "fucks you up, man".
I once swallowed a
pill of questionable composition and found to my irritation in the early hours of the morning that sleep was still far far away.
I hold no pretension to being "hardcore", but let it be known that I am not fundamentally opposed to
chemical enhancement, and have been blessed in that my experience any negative consequences have been moderate and never lasting beyond a day.
But I now admit that my
caffeine addiction is way out of control. I don't even drink coffee: I drink plain black tea in uncontroversial quantities. But deprived of it I am overcome with fatigue, laziness, headaches and depressed introversion. I would have been better off avoiding this drug from the first, but instead my dear mother has poisoned me with this dark filth for a quarter of my life.
I find the fact that such a bland, unremarkable substance exercises such totalitarian control over my daily existence to be unbearably tedious.
I don't know if anyone else is like this.