A sandwich might win this one

When did you last eat something real? Not coffee. Not a handful of crackers eaten standing up. A meal. If you have to stop and think, look again at that hollow buzz under your ribs. Hunger and craving sound almost identical from the inside. Restless. Urgent. Something has to happen soon. You might be gearing up for a fight a sandwich would end.

For a while, every hollow feeling got sent to the same place. Hunger, boredom, stress, all of it. The cigarette kept picking up calls meant for your stomach. So your body still dials that number whenever you skip a meal. That's a crossed wire, not a failure. Your stomach's been talking the whole time. Now you get to hear it.

Go eat before you decide anything. Eggs, rice, leftovers, toast with peanut butter, a bowl of soup, whatever's around. Sit down for it. Use a plate. Eat slow enough to notice it. Halfway through, check back in. The urgency often drops a level before the plate is empty. If part of that urge was hunger, it just got answered.

Whatever's left after the last bite is the real size of the thing. Usually it's smaller than the rumor that showed up on an empty stomach. Fed, you can outlast it. The God who's walking you out of this cares whether you've eaten. The sandwich won this one. So did you.