Ladies and gentlemen, I have been clean for half a decade. I haven't had a Mountain Dew since October 30, 2005. I miss it every day. I have dreams about the golden nectar of sugar and caffeine. Having an addiction means being an addict for the rest of your days.
Picture stolen from Wikipedia
You see, Mountain Dew, it's not you - it's me. You got me through high school and college, and even into my first years of work. I remember driving to and from Arkansas to go fishing with my co-workers - for many hours in the car, you and beef jerky as my only companions. Remember that ridiculous rental car? Good times. When I went to the two-week bridge inspection training class, you were with me. One 20-ounce bottle at the beginning of class in the morning, and another one to ward off the post-lunch food coma. I'll never forget that, but you have to see that things are different now. I'm pretty sure that while I was working on my mechatronics project in college, I easily drank six Dews in a 24-hour period several days in a row. More than once, I had a bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew and a cold Pop-Tart for dinner on the way to the mechatronics lab. Same with my computer engineering senior capstone - especially since the vending machines in the main engineering building dispensed both original and Code Red in one-liter bottles. These are all treasured memories, but you and I have drifted apart, Mountain Dew. You have too much sugar, and your acids attack the enamel in my teeth. I wish I could say, "let's still be friends," but we both know it can never be. I wish you would tickle my innards again, but we'd only be kidding ourselves. Go on, Mountain Dew - don't wait for me. I really have a lot of "me" work to do. You're great. Really. Go find a nice teenager who will treat you right. You deserve it.