Notes I Won’t Reread

People keep insisting that chocolate is comforting. Which already tells me more about them than I need to know.

I don’t have an allergy. I wish I did it would make explanations shorter, and people would stop offering it to me like they’re doing me a favor. No, chocolate just doesn’t agree with my system. Not emotionally. Physically. My body looks at it and reacts like I’ve made a deeply disappointing decision.

It makes me dizzy. Lightheaded. That unpleasant floating feeling where the room tilts slightly and you start calculating how humiliating it would be to pass out over something this unnecessary. And the taste. Thick, sweet, clinging. It lingers in the mouth like it refuses to leave, like it’s proud of itself. Disgusting.

Eat too much of it and my thoughts slow down, my head gets heavy, and suddenly gravity feels very personal. See too much of it, rows of it, piles of it, melted, stacked, wrapped in gold like it deserves admiration, and I feel irritated before anything even happens. My stomach turns just looking at it. It’s like my body is offended on my behalf.

Everyone else treats chocolate like it’s a sacred. A solution. A personality trait. Bad day? chocolate. Broken heart? coffee, just kidding. its chocolate again. Existential emptiness? melt it and pretend that fixes something. I don’t understand how people can enjoy it. To me, it’s excessive, sticky, nauseating, an overpraised brown mess that people cling to because they don’t know what else to do with themselves.

For me, it’s just a shortcut to feeling unwell. No comfort. No joy. No nostalgia. Just regret and the strong urge to lie down and wait for my body to forgive me. I don’t crave it. I don’t miss it. I actively dislike it.

So I avoid it completely. Not out of discipline, not out of virtue. out of basic self-preservation. I hate chocolate because it makes my body malfunction and my patience disappear, and i see no reason to tolerate something that repulses me this much.

And yes, people still test it.

“Just a little,” they say, like they’re negotiating a hostage situation. As if my nervous system is being dramatic for attention. As if exposure therapy with a chocolate bar is going to suddenly turn me into one of those people who moans about cocoa percentages.

I don’t need to “get used to it.” I’m not missing out. Nothing tragic is happening here. You enjoy it. Congratulations. I enjoy not feeling like the floor is about to greet my face. different hobbies.

What really fascinates me is the disbelief. The way people look offended, personally wounded, when I say I hate chocolate. As if I’ve insulted a family member. As if rejecting it is a moral failure. Relax. I’m not cancelling chocolate. I’m just opting out of the experience where my body shuts down, and my patience evaporates.

So keep your chocolate cakes, your molten centers, your “you just haven’t had good chocolate yet.” I’m perfectly fine watching from a distance, fully conscious, upright, and not dizzy.

If chocolate is your comfort, cling to it. If it’s your cure, prescribe it to yourself. I’ll be over here doing the radical thing, avoiding something I hate, that makes me feel terrible, and offers nothing in return.

Apparently, that’s strange.

Personally, I think passing out over dessert would be stranger.

Sincerely,

with all respect,

Keep that shit away from me.