Frantic searches through secret stashes that people have made all the more alluring by hanging in plain sight and saying no too. Graising on second rate tidbits until you find the holy grail. Once you spot the Cadburys purple you take without caring who it belongs to. It's under your roof so it's not stealing.
You eat as fast as you can. No matter how big the pack you know you won't crack. The first one couple taste amazing but are eaten far too quickly, the next are savoured momentarily whilst you think of inventive ways of disposing of the wrapping. The rest, if there's any, are scoffed with robotic lethargy as the post-binge self-hatred begins to materialise and you tell yourself you'll never do it again. You blame everyone else because you don't buy these things yourself, they're never bought for you but just the fact that they're there during your weak moments is enough. You dream of times when you could control this, when it didn't matter what you were surrounded by you could still resist.
The taste of chocolate that lingers at the back of your throat is symbolic with thoughts of guilt, worry and regret. Of all the night's dark undoings of the hard day time work at trying to achieve some semblance of health.
You write all this down in hope you'll look back and learn, that your future self will pick up this essay instead of another nail in your ever-expanding coffin but you also hold zero faith that once you're in that frame of mind anything will be able to convince you to stop.
You're a junk food junkie, stealing the food from your babies mouths and replacing it with stuff you know you'll not use, well, unless you're desperate.
You let your lifelong nemesis win. You coax him out of his shell. Leave trinkets there as sacrifices rather than keeping him bound and restrained. Mr Hide will always return, he's more resilient than you'll ever be, feels no remorse, only ever takes.
He is the demon of gluttony, dipping his greasy fingers into the minds of the weak and making them quit.
