Diet

This is my diet. I think my whole life is a diet. I'm just now figuring it out. But I'm trying to stay in control so I don't swell to the size of a giant Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. And I'm starving. And not happy. Of course.

I want everything to be perfect. I want my life to happen. It's just not, though. Maybe my battery is dead. Or maybe I just don't have one at all. My clock is ticking in a strange way that really just pounds away, telling me I'm missing out on things everyone else has. There's this nagging feeling of never being good enough and only being a substitute until something better comes along. I can't ever seem to come out ahead. There's this thing that rocks inside me when I see how far behind I am. Chocolates are "swell", but a flower is "beautiful". The same person always makes me so much smaller. It makes me want to scream. But I can't. I have to stay quiet because it's none of my business. Nothing is. I just eat the scraps that are given to me and hope for more. I'm so stupid. I want to eat less, but I'm so hungry, I can't stop myself.

I want to eat at the table like everyone else. I don't like diets.