Food for the Soul

I take a bite out of my compliments, they taste alright, leafy, but almost flavorless. They don’t really leave me satisfied once I am finished with my plate, and I feel as if I might be hungrier than when I started. The compliments I just devoured pass straight through my body, leaving me almost immediately.  I look around, my body urging me to find something to satisfy my hunger and I find a nice bowl of insecurities and set them on the table; they look so filling, so gooey and so delicious.  I grab my spoon and scoop up a large portion, lifting it to my mouth and tasting the delicate flavors that toss around on my tongue.  So many layers to these insecurities. The quality of the dish was carefully prepared, with a lot of time and energy dedicated to preparing the many ingredients that composed these insecurities.  I continue to take more and more spoonfuls of the bowl and realize that my cravings continue to grow more and more after every bite I take. Once I finish the bowl, I am left feeling heavy, and full.  My body aches as the insecurities are holding onto my body, as if I was the host to this parasitic dish.   A couple days later, my body is hungry again, and I remember how much pain I was in after my serving of insecurities, and I look for a healthier option instead; I grip the handle on my fridge and am eager to search for a nice serving of esteem.  I search all of the drawers and shelves from top to bottom, disappointed after my search to find that the esteem has gone rotten while I had forgotten to eat it earlier on in the week.  The mold growing around the esteem laughs at my hunger,  and I almost hear the esteem crying, as if to say, “You should not have wasted me, I am fruitful and juicy, I will leave your body feeling healthy and satisfied.  I taste wonderful and my flavors are limitless.  I am sorry my friend, but I am not something you can find in a store, and I am not something you can take from someone else.  I am only found in the garden that you water.  It will take you another season until you can grow another.  I hope you can wait.”  I close the fridge and open the pantry to find another helping of back-handed compliments waiting for me, and a nice dessert of chocolate regrets to finish me off.


*Photography Credit:The Indian Express


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