Hot Beverages

There are some things that you and I have a hard time resisting, and one of those things is the seductive allure of a custom-made hot beverage made just to our liking.

If you take the time to sit quietly in a well-lit but inconspicuous corner of a place that does nothing but sell hot beverages and observe the behaviors of those ritually devoted to their hot beverages, you’ll discover that most every one seems like a generally good person. They might be generally good people who don’t like mornings or generally good people who hate mornings, but you can always tell that they are generally good people by the way they look at their phones, counting down the minutes to having said hot beverage in hand and occasionally smiling at the floor to let people know they don’t want to bothered right now but they’re actually pretty nice people normally.

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There might not be a lot of things that generally ordinary human beings are consistently good at, but there is one and that is collapsing. It seems that no matter what the situation, generally ordinary human beings l always find a reason, at least once a week, to collapse.

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I have a sneaking suspicion that dehydration is one of the most horrible things to ever plague mankind. I’m talking about the kind of dehydration that grabs your throat and wrings it til it’s got nothing left. The kind that robs your whole body of moisture and even steals from the edifices of your eyeballs. I wouldn’t wish dehydration on my worst enemy, and there’s a good chance that all awful things in this world could be explained if you imagined it as a product of some terrible, unquenchable dehydration. Honestly, think about the last time someone did something completely and utterly despicable towards you. Imagine you figured out they woke up that day with a body-splitting Dehydration that persisted relentlessly and reached its inextinguishable climax as they laid eyes on your oblivious sacrificial being.

God bless your poor dehydrated Soul, you almost want to cry. May you be saved.

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Life is an infinite series of goodbyes.

Goodbyes I wish I never had to make, and goodbyes I didn’t know I wouldn’t want to make until I had to, so my heart dropped a little and wondered Why couldn’t just one more day have been? There are the goodbyes that will eventually happen, but which I dread it so much I shush myself when they cross my mind. There are the goodbyes that are fully necessary, and I knew it completely so they were the easiest to grasp.

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I’d love to know what the secret to this life really is. I’d love to know what really makes a person loved, hated, admired or looked down upon. I’d love to know what really separates the gods from the desolates, the poor man from the rich man. I’d love to know why we really sleep and why we have to bleed to know what pain feels like. I’d love to know why the most painful things in life don’t bruise you on the outside at all, so no one knows to rush over and help you unless you ask.

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What is faith, really?

There was a time when faith seemed so easy and was easy to pin down. You knew that yes, you were a believer, because food always magically appeared at least three times a day and even though unicorns were too smart to be captured by the zoo, you could occasionally catch them on TV.

You don’t remember exactly when, but somewhere along the way, everything got all confusing and overly inquisitive. People didn’t just stop at “Do you believe?” They kept going and became insatiable, smiling monsters of good intentions that also wanted to know “Do you believe in God? Do you believe in love? Do you believe in free will? Do you believe in potassium? Do you believe in capitalism? Do you believe in grammar? Do you believe in bitcoins? Do you believe in the impossible? and if they were overly ambitious, perhaps “Do you believe in yourself?”

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