satiate

When I was younger, my parents told me I slept with food in my mouth. I would keep it in while eating, and no matter what they said, I could never swallow it. It was like unfulfillment like no matter how much they tried, food would always be in my mouth, accumulating like moments that should have passed. It’s much like how I feel now, like I’m trying to complete a list that always resets. An infinite loop of something, but with no larger meaning other than satiation. To satisfy a need, is that all I’m living for right now, and if so, why is this need not fulfilling me. My constant anxiety is like a parasite, feeding on my mind when it needs to, but at the cost of my self-perception. I want to be perceived. I want to perceive myself. But I also want to destroy myself, allow my mind to be shattered by something beautiful. And it’s this very conflict that makes me feel empty, like I’m pretending, like this is all an act. I feel guilty for pretending, but I don’t know what character I’m playing.