the truth
.
.
.
and...
the man who lugged it all the way from La Maison Du Chocolat (HK) for me.
since we're on the topic of chocolates, allow me to indulge in a little tell-tale session of my partially 'clear as day' relationship with chocolate, tainted with a little 'hush-hush' nature.
When it comes to chocolates, the spectrum of my eating habits and preferences spread far and wide. You see, I believe that chocolates can cure many ailments, mainly emotional upheavals in my case. See a perpetual frown pasted on my stoned face, swizzle a bar of chocolate in my presence and your chance of catching a wide grin have just magically tripled at least.
My addiction to chocolate can come across as pretty alarming to some, and as much as I would like to proclaim my independence from this waist enhancer culprit; I flail my arms helplessly in the air. I'm a slave to chocolate.
I've tried many kinds, single estate chocolates with unique serial coding, honey comb chocolate, chocolate laced with ginormous nuggets of crystallised ginger. Roasted nuts, cookies and cream, filled with whisky, perfumed with gentle whiffs of tea. And if all else fails, you can count on the ever ready nutella jar and a spoon. You name it, I've tried it.
So when do I eat my chocolates? well, when I'm happy or extremely angry and during every mood category that falls in between. There's no stopping me. There are days where I keep going at it, consuming grotesque amounts of it so much so that there might as well be an intravenous tube with chocolate blood flowing through my veins. At the end of the day, my energy levels take a plunge from it's adrenaline driven drugged up ride to the peak to rock bottom and the melancholic nature of life takes its stab at my ribs again.
Solutions to my mad-crack addiction? There are none...but I've got a few alternatives up my sleeve...(to be continued.)
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