We are all around you. Most of us do not even acknowledge we might have a problem. We might say ”I’m a connoisseur of tastes” or claim we have everything under control. We might laugh about it, or blame our problems on it. Some of us look down on mere alcoholics as bumbling amateurs and we only feel guilt once found out. We might recruit accomplishes – children are the best for this purpose – or have an entire gang of heavy users. We might justify our behaviour on humans basic hedonistic practises, or even on ancient biological needs. We say, ”it’s innocent, and I harm no one else.”. Our closest people might unknowingly and innocently become our enablers, and we get our panacea in myriad forms from any grocery stores or corner shops. Some of us even cook our own from common household goods. Those, who have very little hope for recovery have often resorted to using the raw ingredients.
Yes, it is true: I, too, am one of these unfortunate addicts. Those wonderful crystalline carbohydrates for some; others have the sole taste for the Theobroma, food of the gods. The endless possibilities and forms and the bright, artificial colours. The sweet thing. Sweets in British, candy in American. The divine sugar. The sweet cocoa derivations. The wrapped, the bagged, the unsorted selections. The confectionery, the pastries, the puddings. Ice creams, soda pops, chewing gums, bars, powders. Sweet, tangy, soft, hard, boiled, natural, artificial, Go On Have A Taste, Just One.
I can tell you from experience that they’re harder to give up than cigarettes and alcohol combined. They’re everywhere and impossible to get rid of. They make me sick, but I don’t want to have the willpower to just stop. Speaking of which, I have plenty of worries to drown and a tub of ice cream waiting.