It’s two A.M.

Hunger erupts as stomach acid tears through dinner. It doesn’t make sense, I ate, and ate, and ate. I cannot be hungry anymore. My hands feel for hip bones. They don’t exist. They haven’t for awhile. I am enormous. My body should be able to feed off itself for a very long time. I get up at 4:30, and make oatmeal. How am I still hungry? There is so much fat. 

I don’t mind change. In fact, I welcome it. Change can be adventurous, powerful, and exciting. However, I don’t actually deal with it very well. I have a minor stroke when my previous life plan is altered, and to fix it, I always focus on trying to lose weight. Which always works. It never fails. I see it happening. I am so aware of my process.

But I can’t stop it.