It was around noon, the time I’d usually have a smoke (one of the five or six a day), when, surprisingly, I didn’t think of a cigarette. Instead, it was the same as yesterday, it was the urge of a brownie. My chocolaty, sweet, delicious friend was calling me in a whisper, like the wind blowing through tree branches.
-Make me -he said.
Once it was out of the oven and I saw my creation, I felt guilty. I knew that I was changing one addiction for another. But the brownie was there, and it was alive…
-No, I’ll get fat.
-It’s ok, you’re working out.
-But I’m supposed to start having a healthier life. Why can’t you understand that?
-Because I’m a brownie and I’m fucking delicious, deal with it, bitch.
And I ate the goddamn thing.
I have no will against chocolate…