The Cup That Held My Sanity

There you were again.

Bittersweet. Mysterious. Smelling faintly of burnt hope and toasted almonds. I couldn’t place you, but somehow I already missed you.

You arrived on a Tuesday — not a remarkable Tuesday, mind you. Just one of those limp, mid-tempo days that smelled faintly of budget cuts and existential dread. I found you sitting there, steam spiraling like a secret trying to escape, whispering things to my tired soul like:

"You’ll survive this spreadsheet."

"You are more than your inbox."

"The meeting could’ve been an email."

Was it your warmth that unraveled the corners of my anxiety? Or your bitterness — so artfully balanced, like heartbreak in a tuxedo? Loving you felt oddly familiar, like recognizing a skyline you’ve only ever seen in a dream.

Or a crush on someone who doesn't exist — but has a Spotify playlist somehow eerily aligned with your breakup mood.

I started timing my mornings around you. Measured my sanity by your presence. I forgave your scalding silences. I endured your occasional burnt notes. I even smiled through the awkward stares when I whispered “You complete me” in the pantry.

Our connection defied logic. You weren't the first. But you were the one that lingered.

My colleagues began to worry. They said I was getting jittery. I said I was in love. They said I had a problem. I said I was poetic.

It wasn’t until one fateful morning — bleary-eyed, hopeful — that I reached for you… and realized…

You weren’t there.

Just a cold mug. An empty cup. A betrayal more profound than that time HBO canceled my favorite show mid-plot arc.

I stood there, heart hollowed out like a bad croissant, when a horrifying truth emerged.

I never made the coffee.

In my haze, I had only imagined it. You. The warmth. The comfort. The reason I got through Monday. The magical elixir of life?

Just a dream. One I never had. One my caffeine-starved brain conjured in desperation — a beautiful lie brewed from longing and sleep deprivation.

And that’s when I realized:

Loving you felt like remembering a dream I never had…

Because I never pressed the start button on the coffee machine.

Moral of the story?

Always check if the coffee’s actually brewing — or if you’re just emotionally attached to a memory that doesn’t exist.

Also: drink water. You’re probably dehydrated.

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