I'm struggling again.
This time, it's turned to desperation.
Last time, I gave in.
Now, picture this:
Your stomach is churning. It feels as if it's grown ravenous jaws and now snaps out to gnaw on your own right arm, like that scene from Sponge Bob.
You feel the stabbing pain, but everyone else is oblivious. The growls fall just short of their ears.
A street vender offers fresh steak and mango, not knowing how much it hurts. You politely decline, wincing from the pain of desperately desiring the very mouthwatering thing that you know will take you to your grave.
You're allergic to food, after all. Nothing is safe, clean, perfect. Nothing can satisfy.
If feels like Hell. I don't know how long I can wait.
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