When I Used To Live In The Land Of Plenty

It wasn’t always easy to sneak upstairs. I knew everybody’s footsteps from being a basement dweller for 4 years by then, I just had to wait for someone to go disappear so I could make my move. Hurry up and go away so I can destroy myself.

Once the creaks and swipes from my parents or a foster-sibling subsided I’d make my move. I’d head upstairs quiet as can be and start by scoping out what was on the counter. Any leftover brownies, cake, or biscuits? Eat 1 or 2 of something from that category. Then go to the pantry. Eat something similar to a Fruit Roll Up, Gushers, or a Pop Tart. Then I’m prepared to search the fridge. Then I’m prepared to find something of substance that may actually fill me. Leftover pasta? Heat up the whole tupperware container. There’s nothing weird about me using the microwave right now, right? It’s just a late night snack.

Ok. Pasta is gone. Man that was good. Very filling. Not enough. Still hungry. Time for a soda and something SWEET need something SWEET to absorb the agony, yes that’s it. So I dutifully put the dishes in the dishwasher and scout further for something I can’t find. Where were those brownies or cake? Aren’t there any Reese’s in this joint? Jesus biscuits, they want me to STARVE TO DEATH. THERE’S NEVER ANY FUCKING FOOD HERE. FUCKING FUCK. Well, shit. NOW WHAT. I’ll have another Fruit Roll Up.

So I have another Fruit Roll Up. And another pack of Gushers. And at this point there’s a Tostinos pizza in the oven cooking for its 12 loathsome minutes. Ovens are quieter than microwaves. Thank you, ovens. And I’ll have another soda. The cool  bubbly feeling helps my stomach feel nice and happy-like. It makes me feel contented; like a full without the stuffed, you know?

So the pizza is done and by then I’ve had (why the hell not) 2 string cheeses and I’ve doused the cardboard-with-ketchup-on-top that is Tostinos with hot sauce, and I fold it in half and wow that was gone fast.

Wow I’m almost feeling contented. Still need something sweet. There’s NEVER ANY ALWAYS TOO MUCH FUCKING FOOD HERE. I need something to sink my teeth into that’s ooey and gooey and satisfying.

Too late to bake brownies so I start to feel sad and I make a peanut butter toast and sprinkle some chocolate chips on top and head downstairs to my cave of self destruction.

Back in the day I still was able to keep a supply of ipecac so down the hatch it goes and up the hatch it comes bringing along the last hour or so of my shame. Then I sleep for 3 hours before the high school is starting bell rings and all I want to do is die.


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