Three years ago, back when my burning desire to conquer New York and London was still my driving force, Jim used to scold me for loving Snickers too much. Every midnight while we were chatting on cam, he would gawk at how I devoured a bar without batting an eyelash and minutes after, another found its way through my stained fingers and loaded mouth.
Blame the best choco bar in the world for taking over me but I couldn’t skip a night without indulging in such wonderful guilty pleasure. It was so orgasmic I was even willing to trade a hot sex with a Brazilian model for it.
And like any other great things that happened to me, my addiction with Snickers stopped when it was time to move on to another craving. The Law on Diminishing Returns ganged up on me but before that, MasterFoods laughed its way to the bank with hundreds of well-licked Snickers wrappers stuck inside our garbage bags. For once, Jim was relieved to know I wouldn’t die of diabetes for the time being.
Along with the dumped addiction were aroma of what I used to be, memories associated with that deliriously yummy bar of nuts, caramel and chocolate. Snickers then were the angsts, pangs, fire and passion I once had as a film student.
Then came Piattos (big), the cheesy junk that accompanied me through clandestine relationships and getting out of them alive. Its flavor reminded me of most of the things ought to be forgotten. Like its predecessor Snickers, I had a long partnership with Piattos, a proof that mine is not just a usual addiction or an extreme case of indulgence but holding on to certain things too long that moving on is a Godot syndrome. But once it had to happen, the letting go process was as easy as flirting.
After Piattos came Tostillos that reminded me of the birth of UP CINEMA; Chocnuts that stayed awake when I had to read news articles for my Avecilla torture every Thursday night; C2 Lemon when I had to endure sleepless nights editing ‘Manoro’ and ‘Twilight Dancers’; Chippy while watching ‘Encantadia’; Pringles while I was too stressed to find a way how to survive my thesis; C2 Apple while editing ‘Pantasya’, ‘Foster Child’ and ‘Tirador’.
The nostalgia that each brought attached me to the thought of not letting go too soon of the relationships knotted with each phase. Those stories are for my private consumption only though.
I just got over my addiction with Chocknots and am now starting to love Happy (the peanuts). These and all other garbage that were not supposed to leave the sari-sari store but got their way to my longing stomach were just not junks but reminders that had to eventually fill their spaces in the overcrowded garbage bags when their time was over.