This world we live would be a better place if everyone could simply deconstruct the moment in which a person,
eating at Subway or what have you, having finished half of their sandwich,
comes to the juncture of either eating a little more of the second half of the sandwich,
or resisting and not proceeding to bite.
Just one or two or three bites are taken, but the contradictions are so rich. They even add to the flavor, you could say. Can you feel THE HUNTERIAN OPIATE appetize you? It’s in your cells, it’s what makes you human.
You have eaten those few bites into the second half, my dear human who would never actually eat the footlong, but can rarely resist eating more than 6 inches.
You have broken a promise to your well-eating self….but it’s of little consequence as far the amount of matter ingested, unless you’re very calorically particular,
You have deprived yourself of increased future nourishment with the trimming away of your saved next meal….but what you do with the current nourishment may become energy invaluable!
You have given into an indulgence, but such may be the purpose of the comforts of fast food, wouldn’t you say? Is excess in consumption not in some ways, utterly essential?
Through those few bites, You might have possibly gone overboard just enough so that the effects on your health are negative….however, it isn’t like you’ve interfered with any other healthy eating choices you had planned on adhering to.
If you had done differently, your stomach might be growling, interfering with your productivity.
If you had resisted, you could savor the neatness of the shape of an unbitten half, so trivial but so essential to the satisfaction of organizing things!
If you had made sure not to eat those few pieces of the second half, it would be like you didn’t come anywhere close to eating the entire thing. You weren’t going to, but it represented that. So you feel shame. But it’s not shame because it’s a small thing. But small things are still big. So you don’t know what to say. Except that you get hot with the hunterian opiate. Hotter than hot coffee. You burn and simply go about your day, ready to treat the world with such similarly rich contrast, and pseudo-satisfaction gained from choices that kind of matter, great depth in your ability to feel the friction brought about.
As vile actions you resent contain the same amount of tamed infernos, and you fail to bring about your own dream of social justice,
you and them simply act on the cravings of a hunter who knows what it means to go too far while holding back,
fight and flight taking the same shape,
indulgence and temperance being nearly the same.
The stuff of unbreakable unspoken cultural mores.
The heat of the universe, as revealed by none but yours fucking truly.
Of course, things get more complicated than this.
But I want the anguish of social beings reduced in some way.
And it begins with you, thinking about what makes you feel so special. Which you are and are not in 10 trillion ways.