Tomato Soup or a Hot Pocket

Tomato Soup or a Hot Pocket



By this point in the night, my stomach starts to ache trying in vain to remind me I need to eat something. I smoke another cigarette. Check my facebook. Anything to fight off the urge to go to the kitchen. I know how this scene ends all too well.
Eventually my body wins, (it always does) so I walk to the kitchen. I look in the fridge, pull out all the drawers, rifle around a bit. I open the freezer, probe the contents. I move to the cabinets next. It's a little hard to see to the back so I take out most of the cans in the front, making sure I check them all so as not to miss anything I like. Next I check the deep freezer in the garage. Sifting through packages of deer meat and frozen pizza, hoping to find something appealing. I check the cupboard above the stove even though I know we don't keep food there. Nothing.
I walk back to the living room. I used to find that phrase so silly. Tonight it seems as sinister as this room itself. I can't help noticing how the reflection of the porch railing makes the windows look as if they're barred. I sit back down. Smoke another cigarette. Read some poetry. Listen to music.
My stomach makes a sound like bullfrogs fucking. It's so loud I can hear it with my headphones in.
Goddamnit.I know I have to eat. I think of everything I saw as I searched the kitchen. BBQ pulled pork. Homemade chili. Ramen noodles. Leftover Chinese food. Nothing. A decision worth all of thirty seconds of thought to most people, I have put off until the point of pain.
Finally, I narrow it down to tomato soup or a hot pocket, but I cannot make myself choose. I look between the two 50 times. I think to myself "If I pick the soup I will have a grilled cheese with it. I compare and contrast. I smoke another cigarette. I read the nutrition facts. I bite my nails.
Then I start to cry. It's uncontrollable sobbing that comes from my core because it's not the choice between tomato soup or a grilled cheese. It's not the difference between a stomach that aches from hunger and one that's full and content. It's the fact that it doesn't matter at all. No matter which I one I choose, I still won't be able to think of one good reason to want to wake up tomorrow morning.