I LIKE MY COFFEE TO-GO 

I drink black coffee partly as a result of a health kick a few years ago that banned anything “sugar,” anything sweet, and partly because you get the real taste of that coffee if you add nothing to it. No mask, no illusion. It kicks you awake and then it's just you and that bean juice facing the morning, or the afternoon (or midnight when exams are coming up as that just seems to be the “college” thing to do).
Sometimes, I spill it, and I don’t believe it’s for attention more so as a reminder that I once felt important; that I would roll out of bed and slosh around my room in a scattered attempt to get ready. I would grab my tumbler, fill it with coffee and then my life would start. I would wake up running, grinding for an invisible finish line until I crashed. 
Coffee was my “I’m ready to go and I’ve got things to do” and now I have nowhere to go but still things to do. So now I drink my coffee in mugs. I do not believe I was meant to drink coffee in mugs. If I still drank my coffee out of tumblers I would’ve been running right now, like always.
I would’ve been learning right now, like always.
I would’ve been warm right now, like always.
I would’ve been thriving right now, like always.
Sometimes, I spill it, that old break in routine. That reminder of guzzling up life as fast as I could, one misstep from spilling it and so I had to be careful, considerate, effective, with everything I did. If I did spill it then I would clean it up and keep going, keep chasing, keep steeping my life until it was as rich and potent and lively as I willed it to be.
Coffee is my distant lover, both of us hoping that with some time and no effort, maybe things will go back to the way they were because before… everything happened.
I imagine removing it from my life—oh the drama—but I find the thought rather anticlimactic. I’m not sure I’d miss it or notice it’s gone. I’m not sure my family or friends would either. 
The only people seeing me drink coffee these days are my sister and my mother. I love them dearly. But I’ve come to realize they’re the kind of people that won’t notice you’re drinking coffee unless you spill it.