Honestly food doesn't appeal to me anymore. In some ways. I am addicted to baking and cooking. But only because it looks nice. And I get this sick and twisted sense of self satisfaction from feeding other people. I like watching them spoon the food into their mouths, the whole time in my head I tally up the calories, knowing exactly how many they are eating, how many more they are eating than I am. But I can't stand the smell of it anymore, the taste of it, the feel of it in my mouth. I start to gag when I think of savory foods and get a headache when I contemplate eating sugar. Breakfast and lunch don't exist to me. I can't handle them, so they don't exist for me. Dinner is a must. I hate it. But Grandmother gets angry when I don't eat the food she cooks. Everything fried, everything breaded, everything covered in butter. A cup of broccoli should be non threatening right. I should be able to handle that right? Except that she boils it to the point when the nutrients are gone, seeped out of the veggies and into the water. I'd probably get more nutritional value than drinking the broccoli water. Actually I don't know if that's how it works. To make it worse she mixes a big hunk of butter in once shes drained the veggies. Then the final touch, buttery breadcrumbs. WHY? Why does she do this to me? While I'm dutifully choking down the so called "vegetables" she says "Emma, why don't you put some salt on, that would give it some more flavor and maybe you would eat more of it that way." No. I don't want it. I don't want any of it. But I'm eating what I can because if I didn't eat anything I'm afraid your heart would break. Grandmothers are tricky that way. They can survive World War II but if you don't finish your dinner they might die of a broken heart. But soon school will be over and I can be home and there won't be any more "yes the lunch you packed me was delicious, the bun was so fresh, the cheese was so good, thanks for packing me a donut you know how much I love them" because I'll get to say "I already ate" and my parents will be happy because that will be one less thing they have to worry about.
I'm so tired of all of this. I want to crawl under my fluffy duvet that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and keeps the shivers away and live there forever. I'll start my own civilization with the loose feathers and my stuffed animals. And no one will bug me to eat.