An edulcorant remedy

You’re like my favorite candy store, which I long to see every time after school. I woke up in the morning thinking of you, and I will wait for the whole school day to be over just to see you. You’re like those sweet candies, sweet yet unhealthy when taken too much. There always have to be moderation, and as you always tell me, balance is the key. No wonder, seeing you after a week – such a long dreadful week as it seems – feels worth it. You’re like those sweet chocolates, like prizes when kids have been good kids. No wonder my mother would always tell me I seem like a good kid. I’ve been a good kid. You’re my handful of Skittles, the rainbow spectrum that colors by black and white life.

You’re my sweet treat, a dessert after a bitter day. However, just like those other candies that expire, you’re gone. And my stomach is sick. You’re unhealthy, and I don’t want to have diabetes.

I knew it. You shouldn’t have been too sweet at all. Now you’re mistaken as a candy.

Or you shouldn’t be compared with a candy store at all.