I am coming to terms with the fact that people, stupid people, don’t like me. This has finally hit home, it was running round my head, but it has finally struck.
People. Do. Not. Like. Me.
And that is perfectly okay.
Because like coffee, I am not to everyone’s taste, like coffee I sometimes have too much sugar, sometimes not enough, sometimes I’m better with cream, sometimes I’m better without. Like coffee, sometimes I am ridicuolously amazing, sometimes I’m utter crap. Sometimes I look better in a beautiful cup and saucer, sometimes it’s more practical for me to be in a paper cup.
But you can’t buy me from Starbucks or Costa, and you can’t whip me up in your kitchen when hungover.
And some people prefer tea. Or nothing at all.
I am bittersweet.
I am erratic.
I am fine.