Pride and addiction

I've decided the deadly sin of pride can live in us in unexpected ways. You see, what I realized the other night was that I'm proud of the fact that I can drink coffee. Isn't that weird? To be more specific, coffee doesn't affect me, meaning I can drink a cup at say eleven o'clock at night and be asleep fifteen minutes later. The problem, of course, is that coffee's not actually good for me. After all, it's poison for the heart, not to mention the effect on my liver and the acid-alkalyne balance.

So I struggle with the addiction. Yes, I give up coffee entirely from time to time. But it's a bit like my cousin. She was indignant when her naturopath told her she was addicted to coffee.
"No, I'm not!"
"Well, see if you can do without for three months."
Yes, she cut it out for three whole months just to prove him wrong. And told him so. But, within a few days, she was quaffing the caffeine brew again.
Heigh ho.