It starts so simply, each sip of the drink creating a new effect, just like poetry. First, a rush... heat... her heart flutters. Her tummy rumbles. Her head feels heavy. The room slowly spins. She does not understand why - is it the caffeine? No. What is it then, what is the reason? And soon it does not matter, soon the why and the reason are gone, and all that matters is the nausea itself. This is the nature of the coffee. She struggles against it, she fights to deny it, but it is of course pretense, it is a lie. Beneath her poised appearance, the truth is...she is completely out of control.
I cannot drink coffee. I must not. Not even decaf. It doesn't matter. There is something about coffee that makes me insane. I'll sit in a Pizza Hut, look around at the giant plastic vegetables on the wall and cry. At least the crying relieves the crazy somewhat. If there is no crying, there is only the curling up in the corner and whimpering softly while rocking back and forth.
Damn coffee.
Nausea before retching before emesis. The vomiting centre in my medulla oblongata better not be activated. *shake fist* Oh god. Maybe if I concentrate really hard, it will go away. And lots of water.
And yes, I stole that bit up there from Matrix: Reloaded. What of it?
1 comment:
Hey, you lifted the only part of that scene which made any sense.
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