My stomach is full, and I smell rank.
Clothes caked in the heavy, gloppy stink of food with no soul. The inside of my nose is coated in grease. Not “fast food” grease of which the smell is potent and obvious. This scent doesn’t hit you until you walk out the door.
Good food, if you stop and think about it, smells delicious. Although normally, that’s not something you think that you’d have to think about. It’s kind of a given. Good food smells…good.
Currently, however, I do not smell any goodness. My skin is soaked in a base, distasteful scent of thick nothingness. It seems to resemble my life. It’s like all I do is go to a dining hall every five hours, consume cardboard Calories, grab some ice cream, and leave. Trapped in a cycle of consuming food with no soul, studying constantly but procrastinating a good percentage of that time, losing sleep, wanting something more. Something different. Longing for the world to wake up and place more of an emphasis on things like good food.
But perhaps my taste buds are dead, and I am the only one asleep. Half awake. Staring through a fishbowl. But without it, the world is a blur….