Social Short Story – Life Is Food.
Photo credit: manuere from morguefile.com
Life is like a f##kin stomach sometimes. You love to fill it with things that make you feel good, taste good, look good…are good. The downfall is the leaky, burning almost fiery magma-like sh#t you take after your digestive acids break down the feel good and turn it into waste. Nothingness. Bile toxins that you must rid yourself of in order to maintain a healthy body and survive another day.
I am the food you eat. I am the love and beauty you crave. I am the disgust you flush away from your life after you can take no more and must release in order to make room for something better. Something better than me.
I can be absolutely appetizing to the eyes, like the most tantalizing and enticing distraction you could wish for. But why want me? I’m no good for you. I’m only temporary in your life. The moments we share will never, ever last forever. You’ve grown to know this is true after learning the secret life of the disappointed and downtrodden from your years as a youth into the adult you are today.
You have many choices and better options that can satisfy your cravings and thirsts, but yet, you hold on to the bittersweet that is our intertwined meetings and rendezvous. Why?
Life is entirely too short and is entirely too trying to worry about the small satisfactions that you seek in me. What do you see in me? How do I make you feel when I’m inside you? Wholeness? Fulfillment? The temporary comforts that I provide are absolutely no match for the better, no the finer things that this planet and the inhabitants of it can offer you.
You should know I could never love you. All I can be is the worst impression of a beautiful reflection. If that hurts you, I don’t care. I wasn’t born to love you and you alone. You are expendable. You are a choice of your own desires and whims. There is nothing I can do to help or hurt you.
I am as the wind comes, for a brief and cool moment of relief from the summertime rays of skin warming radiation from this solar system’s main power source. I am Food. I am whatever you want me to be in order to fill your masochistic and whimsical needs. You know this will never last. You know there will never be a forever. You should rest in blissfully ignorant assurance that before we depart, we will never meet again.
Life is food. I am food. I enter your world and I leave your world all via your own choosing. Sometimes I am good, sometimes I am bad. Sometimes I’m a treat, sometimes I’m a drag. Sometimes I am comfort, sometimes I am toxic. Sometimes I become something and look forward to being nothing.
Life is Food. I am Food. Life Is Food.
–END–
