I eat.
I eat when I’m happy. I’m eat when I’m sad.
I eat when I’m afraid and when I’m lonely.
I eat when everything feels like it’s closing in on me and when I can’t cope with the world.
I eat because at times I find facing reality almost impossible.
I eat to block out a constant feeling of anxiety.
I eat to provide a barrier between me and my feelings.
I eat because I don’t know how else to give myself comfort.
I eat.
I eat. And I do it really really well. It’s my specialist subject. I could get a degree in it. I could be on Mastermind and answer all John Humphrys’ questions on it.
But there’s one question I have never been able to answer: why can’t I stop?
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