It was 4 a.m., and I was craving chocolate.

It was 4 a.m., and I was craving chocolate.

If there is one thing you must know about me, I do not have a sweet tooth—at least, I try not to. Most of all, I never crave chocolate. I try to keep it as far away from my thoughts as possible. And the thing is, at this right moment, I do not crave any type of chocolate; I crave a specific one, which, dear reader, is not illustratable.

All I can utter is how, while bundled up in layers of blankets, I cannot close my eyes, for my body does not feel the effect of tiredness. But as I fix the stars shining through the window above my bed, I can only think about chocolate. One might ask: why do I crave chocolate right now? In all of the unhealthy cravings I could have, why chocolate? And the question has been stuck in my head for a while now: has the moonlight awakened dormant longings within my being?

I have a theory. Slumbering desires awaken once the night folds the world into its shadow. The most fortunate of us, eyes closed and minds opened to latent dreams, are free to wander their most hidden longings in peace. Meanwhile, the unfortunate are bound to watch the moon glisten above their weary eyes, asking them to face their hidden, darkest thoughts while she, still reigning the sky, will listen. And I can see her watching me, patiently waiting for me to say it out loud. So I obliged.

“chocolate is not kind to me. It never has been.” I said as the shadow of my words, woven with moonlight, lingered and swayed upon the walls of my room.

Yet, I cannot help it; I am thinking about it. It is as though I can feel its scent wrapping me in its arms, making me feel dizzy with longing. My whole room smells like chocolate and I can't breathe anymore. I yearn to feel its warmth surrounding me, within me, the overwhelming sensation of its taste in my mouth. I need to focus. Chocolate is not right for me. It never has been.

I can't stand still as my thoughts swirl in my head, crowding my sense of reason. I get up from my bed so quickly that my legs shiver from the cold sensation of my empty room. Should I just stay here? Watch a film. Or read a book? No. I start to pace up around my bed. I open the window and quickly close it as the January air rushes through.

The stillness of my room is suffocating, and I cannot bear it anymore. I open my door and go straight to the bathroom. An almost ironic laugh comes through as I realise silence is attached to my shadow. I open the tap before me, letting the water stream and catch it in my hands. I freeze for a second, watching it flow over my fingers.

Some people believe water is healing. It is past 4 a.m., and I would believe anything to stop craving chocolate and fall asleep. So, I splash my face with water, hoping it will cure the darkest part of myself lingering in the dark shadow of the night.

It is now 5 a.m., and I am still thinking about chocolate. Laying in my bed, still watching the stars scintillating through the obscurity of the night, I try to gather the strength to stay still in my bed and let my body feel the fatigue of my mind. But I am restless and bound to shift position in my cocoon. From the corner of the window, I can feel the pressure of unveiling myself to the moon and telling her that, indeed, I am still picturing this particular chocolate in my room, seated on my bed. There is nothing to be ashamed of, right?

One question that has been stuck in my mind for the past hour is whether Chocolate has ever thought about me at night. But Chocolate never has this kind of thought. He never would. I shift position again. I must say, I thought I had erased this deep desire for chocolate out of my mind for good. But the feel of its warmth has remained imprinted on my mind, hidden in a corner for the past months. If I close my eyes just now, I can see it, its hands around my waist, tingling, burning. I can feel the electricity of its eyes upon my lips and the warmth of its body near mine. In my cocoon, I let my hands wander around my chest, trying to ease my shallow breathing. In my cocoon, I am embalmed in warmth; for a second, the pleasure of it seems palpable. My breathing has not eased yet, so I leave my hands wandering, hoping to ease the aching.

It is now past 6 a.m., and to my great desperation, I am resolute to abandon the idea of resting. My mind, although still drawn to the inexplicable torture that is chocolate, is at this moment convinced good can be drawn from this.

You should know that the moon has disappeared between 5 and 6 a.m. To my surprise, she has won the game we had been playing all night as I am now honest with myself; a part of me has always craved chocolate, for chocolate was never just chocolate.

As the warmth is returning to the sky, painting its limit with sunrise, I am but the reflection of a night spent longing for chocolate I have never truly tasted. And as Matt Haig wrote: “The craving for the thing is rarely met by the satisfaction of getting it. And so we crave more. And the cycle repeats. We are encouraged to want what will only make us want more.”

- BB