Oh PowerBar, why can I not eat you?

You stare at me every morning from your dark home in my second desk drawer. Longing for me to choose you over the enemy, the almighty McMuffin. You tempt me with your shiny wrapper, your incredible self-portraits and your claims of physical prowess and well-being you might bring should I choose you over the warmer, more obvious breakfast option. Alas, I find myself hopelessly unable to test the waters with you. You are just beyond my taste bud spectrum I fear. In other words, it's not you, it's me. I'm afraid you might exceed your "Best if consumed by" date - or whatever you call it - and maybe I'm secretly looking forward to that day. You're reliable because you're always an option but you're probably too good to be true. You're just a temptress. Outer shell of chocolate, inner ingredients of fake nougat, coconut and some nuts I've never seen before. [insert TWSS here]. Taste of cardboard, old sawdust and the color brown. You do have one glimmer of hope. Maybe some day when a combination of variables come together, we will meet. Your perfect storm would include me running late for work, slightly hungover, no money, and a growling appetite. Then, you might meet your fate. Until then, keep praying that you can alter your Best if date, cuz I don't see it happening anytime soon.