chocolate masochism

I'm a pain in the ass.  I've never denied it because, well, because I can't.  I also have a sprinkling of sweetness in me.  I'm like a store brand cookie with extraordinarily good chocolate chips.  I'll never be confused with a Chips Ahoy though.  I won't bet you bite a chip because my chips are scattered randomly. 

 

Sometimes someone will take a big bite knowing it will be full of chips and be confused when all they have is a mouthful of cookie crumbles.  But if all they ever wanted was chocolate, they wouldn't have reached for a cookie.

 

I know chocolate people.  I bet you know some, too.  So sweet all the time.  I don't know how they do it.  It's not in me to be sweet all the time.  I find it tiresome.  It takes effort to be good all the time.  Effort and I have never been friends.  Plus, on some level, I must enjoy the bitter taste of sadness.

 

At times, I sit in sadness; I marinate in the bitter.  Happiness never seems real or permanent.  Even when I'm happy, I'll take a taste of sad.  Today I announced to my coworker that I have a new cd.  He said, ""As long as it's not The Smiths.""  Technically, no.  It's Morrissey.