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Columbia Coffee Beans

I dig my hand into the coffee bean box, pull a handful of Columbia's Best out, and begin devouring one after the other; its almost automatic now, I can't stop.

I have two years to go. Two more years of stress and waiting. I sit now, each elbow rested on a separate leg, hands clenching my forehead- I think " just a little more to go".

I have a job to do here; when I don't do it right, the consequences are often ones that will prevent me from getting a usual four and a half hour sleep I get every other night.

My paper is due tomorrow. On the results of liberalism in so and so; I can't take it anymore. By my side stands a box of coffee beans. Colombia coffee beans.

They are the only medicine you'll need . The point is, I have so much to do, so much stress to overcome and I'm but 16 years old.

The paper is expected to be 2 pages, while all that can be seen is a little blurb on the top that is my first sentence. I dig my face into the palms of my hands and shut my eyes, wishing this were in the past.

Dark blue bags underline my eyes; my hair, beautifully decorated with gray highlights (no sprays were needed), is pointing in every which way, like a miniature devil. Even the coffee beans have no use anymore.

I've been consuming them for so long. It' as if my body built up an immunity to coffee beans and keeping awake, as if it were a disease.

I take one more handful of coffee beans. I eat them like any person eats popcorn. I am a hypocrite. I often tell people not to hurry time, " let time do its thing", but I, myself, am in a hurry. I want out.

"Only time will tell the tale", I always said to others, but I can't understand it. I can't wait until the day that I look back at my earlier years, my pains and pressures, my loves and hates, and laugh at it all.

How foolish I was to put myself through it all. I cant wait until the day when all this will be behind me. I can't wait.

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