Fishing Rod : Short story collection

Hunger

I am hungry.

It may not mean anything great to the world, that a college freshman had coffee for breakfast and is now regretting her decision. But I am hungry. Everything reminds me of food. The Professor's voice reminds me of that one McDonald's advertisement I heard on TV. So many people remind me of a buffet and their whispers remind me of warm cookies for some reason. Anything would do. Rice, cup noodles, even chips. I feel this strong need to chew on carbs, piping hot, steamy, and savoury. I'm so hungry but it's a nice feeling.

I remember resenting hunger.

Hunger meant helplessness. Hunger meant relying on your father for food and roof and clothes. Hunger meant you couldn't save your ego, it meant you won't ever be pretty. Hunger meant you'd lost to the skinny girls. Hunger meant that you're nothing special. You couldn't go without food for hours as those inspiring fasting books said. You couldn't survive running away from home. You couldn't burn another calorie. You couldn't resist eating that doughnut. You couldn't be enough and hunger meant suffering.

Today, this hunger means being human. Today it connects me with everyone in this boring lecture hall, who's praying for the time to pass quickly and eat. I'm sure the professor's also hungry. It's near lunchtime after all. I am hungry. It tells me, I'm not giving my body as much as it needs. It reminds me to be kind to myself. It reminds me to treat myself better.

Hunger is beautiful.

[A/N] I don't post very short chapters but you could tell I'm hungry and my brain isn't supporting me anymore. I may delete this, or edit this. I'm still in high school BTW, so I hope that somewhere in the future, just like this micro-fiction, I could look at my hunger more kindly.