Yaraye
VIP
I was raised in a strictly no-coffee household. Coffee? Blasphemy! My mom was loyal to one thing and one thing only: Somali shaax — the royal brew of black tea, infused with spices, wisdom, and generational power. So naturally, our cabinets were stacked high with kenyan black tea and cardamom, and not a single coffee bean dared show its face in front of my mother
Then came adulthood… I entered the workforce about 2 years ago, and boom — they had FREE COFFEE. Free coffee, free sugar, free creamer, free betrayal. I said, “Let me just try it… for the flavors.” I was there for the southern pecan, the French vanilla, the liquid joy in tiny cups
One day I read the label on those creamers and realized I was basically sipping scented motor oil with a splash of sadness
“Partially hydrogenated what?!”
I nearly cried.
I IMMEDIATELY switched to cow milk and sugar, like a reformed caffeine monk. Then I leveled up to the holy trinity: cow milk + brewed coffee + honey. No fake stuff. No chemicals. Just vibes and bitter ambition. 
At first? That bitterness SLAPPED me. Like, I-just-got-fired slapped me. But now? I crave it. I sip it like I’m about to do someone’s taxes and run a Fortune 500 company at the same time
And here’s the kicker… on my days off, I wake up stumbling around the house thinking, “What is this… emptiness? Why does my soul feel... unplugged?”
After months of denial, I realized it was caffeine withdrawal. There. Was. NO COFFEE AT HOME
Back in my high school and college days — I was out here raw-dogging 4 a.m. mornings with NOTHING but determination and cold water to the face. My friends would say, “I can’t live without my morning coffee!” and I would roll my eyes in TEA-powered superiority
But now? I’ve crossed over. I just bought my first jar of coffee powder for home. I’ve officially been inducted into the “don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee” club. My peers are all at the age of quitting coffee for their health, while I just started my addiction!






My mother will have a field day when she opens the kitchen cabinet to see a tall bottle of coffee powder.

Then came adulthood… I entered the workforce about 2 years ago, and boom — they had FREE COFFEE. Free coffee, free sugar, free creamer, free betrayal. I said, “Let me just try it… for the flavors.” I was there for the southern pecan, the French vanilla, the liquid joy in tiny cups

One day I read the label on those creamers and realized I was basically sipping scented motor oil with a splash of sadness




At first? That bitterness SLAPPED me. Like, I-just-got-fired slapped me. But now? I crave it. I sip it like I’m about to do someone’s taxes and run a Fortune 500 company at the same time

And here’s the kicker… on my days off, I wake up stumbling around the house thinking, “What is this… emptiness? Why does my soul feel... unplugged?”


After months of denial, I realized it was caffeine withdrawal. There. Was. NO COFFEE AT HOME



Back in my high school and college days — I was out here raw-dogging 4 a.m. mornings with NOTHING but determination and cold water to the face. My friends would say, “I can’t live without my morning coffee!” and I would roll my eyes in TEA-powered superiority

But now? I’ve crossed over. I just bought my first jar of coffee powder for home. I’ve officially been inducted into the “don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee” club. My peers are all at the age of quitting coffee for their health, while I just started my addiction!







My mother will have a field day when she opens the kitchen cabinet to see a tall bottle of coffee powder.
