If you are starving and some one offers you potato chips, you will eat them. But you cannot eat potato chips everyday for a year and wonder why you feel like shit.
I was starving for love. Like I had never had a single bite of cooked food in all my life. I found some potato chips and, at first, I was absurdly satisfied. I couldn’t get enough. I was so hungry that anything would do.
I was never nourished properly. There were no vitamins and minerals rejuvenating me from the inside out. And, at first, it wasn’t concerning. My stomach was full and that was all that mattered.
But after weeks and months of this diet, your body starts speaking. Louder and louder. More fiercely the less it receives.
I started thinking that maybe I deserved more than potato chips. Your mind gets confused. You think that what you had in the beginning is different from what you have now, but, in reality, the only thing that has changed is you.
I started having higher expectations. I started asking for more. But no matter how many potato chips I would demand, the effect was the same. I craved real love. I craved understanding. I craved gifts and attention. But potato chips are empty calories. It’s a filler food to artificially bury the voids.
Naturally, I became depressed. I was crying. I had aches everyday for a year. I wanted the potato chips to be my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. But, potato chips just aren’t meant for that. Could I blame them? Could I truly be upset for asking them to be what was impossible for them to be?
The solution seemed so simple to me and I tried to explain in every language that I could. I created pathways around the problem in every way I could invent. But there continued to be a giant block. A big, dark cloud. And it was always raining. And I was always aching.
It was impossible to tell how the potato chips felt about everything. They seemed content just being themselves. Not speaking much or dancing around, like most potato chips do, entertained sitting inside the bag.
It drove me crazy. I turned into fire. I turned into glass. To storms. And there was always mud inside my head. Please love me. Please care about me.
Of course, I began to question myself. In all situations, I first blame myself. I looked deep inside and said why can’t you be satisfied from these potato chips? Why do you have to be so selfish and ask for more? Why can’t you just be happy? Your stomach isn’t empty anymore. You are eating. Be more thankful. Be more accepting. Be more considerate.
I really tried. But there was this little thing inside me that started screaming. It said “I will die if I have to eat another potato chip!” I didn’t listen for a while, so I turned against myself. I was in so much pain all the time. Mentally. Physically. Hating me. Arguing with myself.
I started fantasizing about all the other food out there. Warm meals made of vegetables. Spices and flavors. Soups and fruit salads. My imagination went wild and, occasionally, I spent too much time there. I never tasted, but I got close enough to smell.
I really went insane. I would stay up until the sunrise drowning in anger. Everyday I woke feeling like I had been hit by a bus. The smallest problems became volcanoes of mass destruction to my balance.
I knew where my path was leading. But I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to make sure that the path was really going there. I thought maybe there would be a side street or jungle trail that would take us to some wholesome sunshine. I would not make a mistake. I did not want to regret anything. Hope can be such a waste of time.
So, I continued forward watching myself wither. I was like a houseplant baking in humidity whose owner had forgotten about me on the step. My soil was dry and my leaves brown and cracked on the floor.
Finally, I arrived to the day. My heart grew cold. I was on my death bed. I was a few breaths away from death when I decided that today was the day I quit trying to turn these potato chips into something that was going to fill me with love and life.
I rather starve than soak up their poison. A poison so dark and unaware that it had no idea that it even was poison. I know this because that’s what it told me each day. But it hurts. Why does it hurt?
The hurting became draining. The anger became tiring. The sadness became boring. A hopelessness grew inside me. Apathy. And I began to mirror the blandness in the potato chips. I think everything hurt so bad that I became numb.
Something can only hurt you so much until you become bored of the pain. Like a vaccine. A sickness that first knocks you down, until your body realizes how to build antibodies.
This is exactly how it happened. I craved them so badly. I longed and hoped that I could live off a potato chip diet for the rest of my life. How silly!
They hurt me so many times. Over and over again. And again. And again. Every day. This is how some relationships end. Hurting each other because we are hurt. One goes cold while the other still fights. But what happens when no one is fighting anymore? No one is talking or enjoying or loving each other, what is there to stand on? There was nothing left. And I had to be the one to call it. To say that I can’t do it anymore. But, hey, we tried. And so that’s that.
It always take a stomach ache to teach us the hard way to wait for a full plate of food instead of filling up on snacks before dinner. And dinner always comes. Just wait.