i wake up to the smell of fried chicken invading my nostrils. it is night time and i haven't eaten for two days straight. i think about food, i try not to. my ears perk up at the sound of dad walking towards my bedroom so i decide to play dead. he cannot know that i am awake. the door creaks open. he walks in. taps my shoulder repeatedly, and i hum in response before curving my body into a c. he buys the trick and i continue to play. minutes later, i think about sinking my teeth in meat i think about food, i try not to. my stomach rumbles, creating music i've learned off by heart. bite my nails. i think about food, i try not to. it is midnight now and everyone is most likely asleep. i'm a thief in my own kitchen, sneaking silently as if sound meant the very end of my existence. i open the fridge, see-section every label, every container and every bottle and everything. i sit on the couch, drool at the sight of food i've brought beautifully together. a side of this and a side that. the numbers and scale don't matter to me right now. so i eat, show no mercy. i lick my fingers and unbutton my pants. for a moment i am full. i feel ok. i think about more food. i try not to. sadly, i failed.

~*~

wrote this the same night,

guilt kept me up and i

struggled to sleep.