coffee is my time machine.

every morning, it sends me back to the version of myself i almost forgot

i don’t know who decided coffee was just a beverage.

for me, coffee isn’t “morning fuel.”
it’s a time machine.
a portal.
a doorway into timelines i swear i’ve lived before.
like every sip brings me closer to the woman i’m becoming, and somehow also back to the woman i used to be.

there’s something weirdly sacred about that in-between space.
like the moment before the sun fully rises and when reality hasn’t locked in yet — is the one time i can slip into another version of myself without resistance.

this coffee version of me…
she’s calm.
she’s clear.
she knows her shit.

the first sip is the jump

when i take that first sip, it genuinely feels like i’m stepping into a different timeline.

i go from half-awake and unsure about every detail of my life,
to this instant sense of knowing exactly who i am.

it’s like the coffee hits and suddenly my past self, present self, and future self all sit down at the same table like:

“okay babe, let’s fking do this. let’s go.”

and suddenly i become unstoppable again.

mornings are the closest thing we have to time travel

when you wake up, you’re not fully “you” yet.
you’re a soft outline.
a sketch.
a version of yourself the world hasn’t touched yet.

and coffee is the moment the sketch sharpens.

i’ve had mornings where i’m drinking my coffee and suddenly i remember the girl i was at 16 — hopeful, insane, romantic, convinced she’d be the biggest pop star on the planet one day.

i’ve had mornings where i drink it and feel my 40-year-old self watching me like,
“you’re going to be so proud of yourself for not giving up.”

i’ve had mornings where i sit there and feel the future tightening around me, like my life is trying to catch up to me faster than i can drink.

coffee collapses all that distance.

it brings every version of me to the same spot.

the coffee version of me is the truest version of me

the coffee version of me?
she’s honest.
she’s stripped down.
she’s blunt with herself in the best way.

she’s also the only version of me who can sit in silence without spiraling.

i trust her the most.
she makes the decisions.
she’s the one who remembers the dream in its purest form, before fear gets involved.

she’s also the one who occasionally whispers,
“stop messing with men who drain you,”
or
“you know damn well what you’re capable of, so stop pretending you don’t.”

coffee me doesn’t fk around.

every dream i’ve ever had started as a coffee thought

i’m not kidding.

the podcast idea? coffee.
the business expansion? coffee.
the rebrand? coffee.
the move across the world? coffee.
the “i deserve better than this person” realizations? coffee.
the identity shifts? always, always coffee.

there’s something about that morning clarity that cuts through the bullshit and delivers the truth straight to my forehead.

it’s like the universe speaks in caffeine.

coffee is where destiny whispers

at night, everything feels dramatic.
at mid-day, everything feels urgent.
but in the morning?
that’s where destiny is the loudest.

it’s not loud in a chaotic way —
it’s subtle.
a tug.
a knowing.

the kind of feeling where you take a sip and suddenly remember:

i’m not lost.
i’m not behind.
i’m building something that hasn’t fully arrived yet,
but it’s already mine.

that’s the time machine talking.
that’s the future you pulling you forward.

so yeah. coffee is my time machine.

it takes me back to myself.
it pulls my future closer.
it reminds me of the girl i used to be
and the woman i’m becoming
and the timeline i’m choosing
every single morning
one sip at a time.

and honestly?
that’s enough to build an entire life on.

xx

LYSS