I used to love Tootsie Pops.
They were sweet, comforting, always there for me. They came in different flavors, each one just as sweet as the other. I used to be grateful that Tootsie Pops were the only option. I rarely got tired of them because they always reminded me that I didn’t need anything else. Tootsie Pops were sinfully addictive. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes I’d cut my tongue or slice the inside of my cheek, but it didn’t matter because they’d always manage to apologize with another layer of sweetness. The pain wouldn’t stop me from loving them. And if they were so sweet on the outside, wouldn’t I want to reach the sweetness on the inside?
It took a lot of time and a lot of pain but I eventually learned the inside of a Tootsie Pop is not sweet. Those layers of sweetness encoding the bitterness within were nothing but a façade. They masked a bitter inside and made me feel like the pain was worth it. Tootsie Pops made me blame myself for loving them.
Tootsie Pops are the worst. I’m glad I left them when I could.