They never thought much of you, no matter how sweet you were, no matter how brightly your colors shown.
You were begrudgingly accepted as a necessary party guest, the plus-one that has to be invited but no one really wants around.
Those who loved you, like me, were shunned as well and assumed liars (as if I could ever lie), but to me, it never felt like October without you.
But I can't love you this year. Perhaps I never will again.
Because you, my friend, are just a designer drug, an autumn-tinted wedge of the vice that takes us all, the one hardest to break because we need it but too much and it kills, destroying us slowly from the inside out.
Oh, candy corn, you are too sweet, and that is precisely why I can't love you anymore.
"You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand." Leonardo Da Vinci
We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. — T.S. Eliot
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