shut up donut

there is a particular type of emptiness that comes on a person between the hours of 11pm and 4am wherein your body sends steadily more confusing signals about what it wants, which you dutifully try to interpret. do we want a pink donut, you ask yourself? dutifully, a pink donut is procured and eaten, but the emptiness persists. do we want a toasted ham and cheese sandwich instead, perhaps to eat while reading a suitable fanfic, curled up in the kind of comfortable window-seat our house does not, in fact, possess? what do we want, brain-body?

here is the answer: what we crave in these moments isn’t nourishment, but acknowledgement freely offered, as opposed to covertly solicited. we sit awake while others sleep and hope our distant friends will sense, by some animal gnosis apart from us, that we want their company; will know to reassure us that we’re not wasting their time, that they’re thinking of us, that we’re valued and wanted. it’s a complex sort of hunger, and one the human body is evidently ill-equipped to convey to its resident ghost in any clearly distinguished fashion. 

so instead, we make terrible decisions involving carbohydrates while squinting at unsatisfactory literature. because existential crises.

Just imagine with me if you will:

The Reds and Blues performing uptown funk Feat. Lavernius Tucker who’s doing an entire musical number so he can get out of doing training while Wash is just sitting there waiting for it to end like