Starving With No Appetite

Personal challenge: Try to write this without using the word motivation.

I still taste the freezer burn from the quarter of the sandwich I tried to eat two days ago. The lettuce lay warm and floppy, sprawled across a bed of brown condensed mush they try to convince me of worthiness. As the juice trickles along the sides of my glass, I can’t help but think of tipping it over. Coral-colored liquid traveling along my island, the corners of the sink, and falling onto rock bottom.

Frantically, I lick the contents up off the counter, stick my tongue between the crevices, kneel down near my feet, and lick the ground. These actions are not unfamiliar, for Jerry’s Lab has grown fond of Jerry’s incoordination. And of my own, though seemingly intentional?

I drop the spoon. Forget a straw. Add too much garlic. Let the tea seep too long. Turn the heat on way too high. Forgot to put back the butter. Ignored the expiration date. Ate too much candy earlier, now my stomach’s upset. Surpassed the five second rule. Didn’t let the tea seep long enough. Burnt my tongue and kept going. Don’t ever ignore the expiration date!

Come to think of it, I never wanted that sandwich in the first place.

Belly called: shaking and rumbling and raising all sorts of drama to catch my attention. I look to appease, and nothing begs to align. My satiation requires more than what is being offered.

So, what then? Starve? Cry for food when a buffet of all I'm allergic to stands before me? Wait in line at a restaurant I’m unsure of? Order something familiar from a restaurant I love? Locate a source for satiation.

In this big world wide world, there must be something you can find to fulfill your cravings. Right? And I’m sure there is. Somewhere. Shit, maybe even right here.

Wherever this contenting is sure to be, let me know what it is so I narrow down my search.

Starving but stubborn.
Starving, but still stuck on what to eat.
Indecision here has served as the meal of fools.