I’m indulging again.
With every mouthful I can feel myself grow, almost bursting at the seams, but I can’t stop myself. My pockets are full, and I return to them relentlessly. Every time I reach back for more it feels as though the stock is replenished. It’s like my pockets are bottomless, the stocks can never grow bare. This is just as well. My peckishness will never be appeased.
I think fondly of times when my hunger was satisfied, but those days feel like a lifetime ago. I’m no longer the same, I have changed. I’ve been reinvented time after time. When the hunger first returned, I lived like a king. I was free. I could roam, I could eat. I would pluck berries from trees and eat until my heart was content.
I’m no longer a king. I’m a piece of shit.
My sticky fingers return to my pockets time after time, tossing sweet, sugary spheres into my greedy mouth. I can feel my arteries clogging with every chew, but I can’t stop myself from what I’m doing. I know it’s no good, I know I’m no good. But what can I do? I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t.
Besides, why would I want to stop? Who would stop eating when such richness is available to them? When you are afforded such an opportunity to eat yourself to death, why wouldn’t you?
They say you can’t have too much of a good thing. I used to believe that. But I can feel my sluggish responses as my stomach begs me to stop eating. I can feel my blood screaming around my body. I can feel every vein, filled to the brim. My blood is hot. It’s like boiling water rushing through my system, flooding me.
Sometimes I feel as though I’m shutting down from the inside out. Like my body is packing up and abandoning me. It thinks it’s better than me? Well, tough shit. I’m in charge here. And we aren’t done yet.
“Fuck you,” I spit at my organs as I swallow another mouthful.
I don’t want this. I don’t want this. But I will have it anyway. Because I can.
My jaw aches.
I wish my heart would just stop. I wish my teeth would fall out. I wish I would keel over, pass out or just stop. I wish I could stop.
I feel as though I am sinking through the floorboards, like I’m drowning inside myself.
I clasp my fingers tight against my nostrils and try to breathe through them. At first I feel like the oxygen can’t enter me, like the blockage is stopping it from cooling my blood. But after a moment I realise that I can breathe.
I can feel the relief flood my system. Like a hit of dopamine straight to my brain. I feel alive. The weight sheds from me, and I am free again. I open my eyes. My pockets are full still, but I’m done with gluttony for now.
Oh, well. Maybe a little won’t hurt?