Picture this: it's 8 a.m., and you're asleep in bed. Now, think of the worst* possible thing that could happen in this moment. If you're like me, you're thinking of your alarm going off and rudely trying to separate you from the beautiful, warm embrace of your covers.

*Cue my dad saying the classic dad line: "If that's the worst thing that's ever happened to you, your life is probably in pretty good shape."

"How could you?" I groggily say to my alarm, who most likely is able to hear and comprehend me since Apple definitely creates products with human intelligence capabilities. I make a lot of melodramatic grunting noises so my roommates know how hard my life is, yet I continue to lay in bed. I'm just beginning to consider setting my alarm again until five minutes before I have to leave for class when I remember: COFFEE EXISTS.

My eyes pop open wide, I roll out of bed, nearly fall onto the ground because my bed is lofted, remind myself that I shouldn't roll out of bed anymore because my bed is lofted, grab a K-cup and mug, apologize silently to the environment for using K-cups, put the K-cup and water in the Keurig, and sit in front of it as if liquid gold is about to pour out. The minute I hear the beautiful golden stream of coffee hit the inside of my mug, I see myself swimming leisurely in a coffee river, enjoying the sound of the coffee waterfall above me. My dream is then cut short when I remember what kinds of stains coffee leaves on everything.

So, I sit down with my mug, and minute by minute my desires for world domination increase. I feel ready to take on this day, or at least just get through my classes. Then I realize I have to work after my classes, and then still do a bunch of homework. So, naturally, I fire up the Keurig again. By the end of the second cup, I feel I can take on this day, tomorrow, and the next few days after that. Does anyone need me to step in and perform a brain surgery? Cuz I could probably do it while also running a marathon, I'm thinking.

I get ready and get myself to class. I raise my hand during a discussion because I think of something intelligent to say. As I start speaking, I notice my hands shaking, and my voice starts shaking too. My intelligent thought comes out sounding a lot like what an earthquake with would sound like if earthquakes could speak. Maybe an actual earthquake just hit, I think; however, nothing in the room is shaking, and no one seems to be panicking, so either an earthquake did not just hit or nobody seems to care that an earthquake just hit. My voice trails off, and my racing heartbeat is probably audible to the entire class. Luckily, someone else continues the discussion. I discreetly open another tab on my laptop and type in, "Am I having a heart attack?" on WebMD (great idea, I know). I conclude from the symptoms that I fortunately am not having a heart attack.

Class ends, and I'm feeling a bit fatigued, yet jittery. So, naturally, I buy another cup of coffee because coffee cannot possibly have anything to do with my body feeling electrically charged, right? We're best friends, so why would coffee treat me like that?

I go about the rest of my day feeling somehow simultaneously exhausted and invigorated. I begin to get very nervous that I have a billion assignments I'm forgetting about, that I left my laundry in the dryer to get all wrinkly, and that the government is out to get me. I try to shake these feelings off as I climb into bed. I feel extremely tired at this point, which is exciting because I know I'll get a great night's sleep (spoiler alert: I do not get a great night's sleep).

I'm lying in bed, unable to quiet the buzzing in my mind. Time is passing more quickly than usual. Why can't time pass this quickly while I'm in class? I wonder. Every time I feel myself drifting off, I become suddenly very aware of my beating heart and how small I am in such a big world and the fact that everything I know about everything could all be a lie and how tomatoes are actually a fruit when they really should be a vegetable in theory. While I'm very impressed with myself at how capable I am of thinking so deeply at such a late (or early) hour, I just wish I could save all these thoughts for the weekend. Ruling out every other possible explanation (alien abduction, spirit possession, government mind control, etc.), I'm beginning to suspect my coffee is betraying me.

I really thought we were friends. Clearly, coffee has no idea what it means to be a true friend. Friends do not let other friends think that the government is spying on them nor let them get bent out of shape about tomatoes being fruits at 3 a.m. on a school night. I put so much trust in my coffee, and it just stabbed me in the back. I want out of this toxic relationship as soon as possible. I finally fall asleep only to be woken up at 8 a.m. once again. I pretty much have to rip my eyelids open since they're glued shut. The first thing in my line of vision is the Keurig.

I've been raised to be a forgiving person. Forgiveness is very important. Even though coffee cannot speak, I imagine it is saying, "I'm so very sorry, Emma. You look very tired, have another cup." I'm a sucker for apologies, so I give in. Since I'm now aware of the evil potency of caffeine, it won't take advantage of me again, right?

(Spoiler alert: wrong. Read this article again to find out what happens the next day, and the next day, and the next day…)