A shot of caffeine and you can conquer the world.

As fancy as you try to say it, no matter whether you use an Italian tongue or an English twang, Black coffee is, and always will be, black coffee. My saviour, my ultimate pleasure, my serious obsession. I'm a coffee junkie. A 19-year-old caffeine junkie. Self-confessed, and proud as punch. I drink a serious amount of it, and rely on it to get me through difficult times, early mornings and later nights. A hangover kick, an early morning wake-up and the greatest refreshment in the world.

The man in my local Starbucks knows my name and exactly what I want as he sees me push open the door. A smile, slightly funny, and a recognised nod, and my thick, black, strong coffee is placed delicately in front of me. It opens me up to a myriad of possibilities. A coffee in tow, and I'm capable of anything. I feel accomplished, prepared, ready to face whatever the day may throw my way; good, bad or down-right horrendous.

This is a particularly suitable post today, after seven cups of industrial strength coffee, I still don't feel prepared to revise like hell for Monday. D-Day is approaching at a somewhat dangerous speed, and I'm not at all ready for what that might mean. I've done countless Literature exams, but I guess at degree level, it matters the most. Don't get me wrong, my course is everything I could want it to be, as well as a whole lot more, with a group of wonderful people, especially a little mention for my favourite girlies- Laura, Sarah and Jenny (who will probably be reading, hey girls!) who are just brilliant and hilarious, and the only kind of people you'd want to spend 9am lectures with and not want to commit a horrific kind of crime. The revision, however, never gets easier. Baracading my bedroom door, hiding my phone and arming myself with a heap of Literature-related quotations to memorize  I think I'm overestimating how much my brain can take in, but I'll try my damnest to pass this bloody exam. It will all be worth it, the late nights, the hard graft and the aching wrists, for the end results, and sooner, the mental celebrations that will occur Monday night, when we can jump up and down, scream and shout and discuss how the hell we managed to get through Year One.

So, for everyone who tolerates my bad moods around exam time, motivates me and believes in everything I can do, I love you all. A very special person always tells me I can achieve anything I set my mind to. Every time I'm about to sit an exam, I receive a text message from my grandma, simply saying:

"you can do it, Duffy Moon!"

It means more than I can ever say.