Monday, August 9, 2010

I’m getting bored with all the usual questions: Don’t you get hungry? I wish I had your will power. You’re going to make yourself sick. Are you naturally thin? What’s your secret. That’s my favourite: What’s your secret? I answer, evangelical, I drink twelve glasses of water a day, I exercise every morning, I don’t eat lunch, I’m allergic to chocolate, I’m too busy to worry about it and blah blah blah, but I know what my secret is and I’m not going to share it: I don’t eat, I don’t eat, I don’t eat, you fucking idiots, I don’t eat.

Don’t you get hungry? Is the next best question. Oh, no, I smile condescendingly, not me. But inside my shell I scream, I am so hungry I can’t tell you about it, I am so hungry that there is nothing in the world that would satisfy me now, I am so hungry I can’t sleep, I can’t dream, I’m hungrier than you could ever understand. I’m starving and you don’t even know what that means.

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