I think maybe I was born hungry.
My mother often recounts how, as a child, I would go days without eating. Once the hunger consumed me, I would eat the week’s worth in a day.
I remember how I came out of the womb crying because I was hungry. I wanted to go back into the warmth where I was fed to my fill.
I remember the hunger.
I am a hungry girl.
My belly never fails to embarrass me by growling at the worst times. I can’t help but eat more than I should at the table.
For a small girl, you eat so much.
For a small girl, I eat so much. Perhaps I should eat less. But I must have been born hungry.
I am hungry.
I never feel like too much time is enough time. All the love in the world is not enough to fill my pit of a stomach.
He feeds me berries and peaches, and still, I want more. He feeds me chicken and potatoes, and still, I want more.
He feeds me all the time he can, and still, I want more.
I am hungry.
Perhaps I didn’t eat enough as a child, and I have a subconscious fear that I’ll starve to death. Or maybe I was just born hungry.
Maybe I remember the hunger that I felt waiting for my mother at the window. No, I was certainly just born hungry.
I come home ravenous and bite his fingers because I am hungry. I have a hot shower and faint because I am hungry. I go to bed with my stomach growling and crawl into his arms because I am hungry.
My poor girl, didn’t you eat?
I did,
but I am still hungry.
Safa Ali is an aspiring writer who combines academic rigor with a creative flare. Her distinctive voice in literature, nurtured by a profound love for poetry and art, resonates with readers seeking originality and depth.
Featured image by Arturro on Unsplash.
