Am I Hungry Or Just Bored?

Am I Hungry Or Just Bored?

I look down at my phone to see what time it is. It lights up, illuminating my face with its glow. I set my phone back down only to realize that I didn’t even check the time. I pick it back up and glance again. 10:03 p.m. My bed time is approaching, I’m getting tired of Netflix, and boredom is setting in. It’s a Tuesday night, so there aren’t really any Scaries. I made a decent meal for dinner. I cleaned the kitchen already and I packed everything up for the morning. I decide to play Candy Crush. I run out of lives. I need something to do immediately before the anxiety kicks in and I say goodbye to a decent night’s sleep. I get up from my recliner and slowly walk into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator doors and blue-tinted light pelts me in the face. I quickly slam the doors shut and rub my tired eyes. Dammit, I forgot my contacts were still in. I run to my room and take them out and throw on my glasses. Back to the kitchen I go as I open the refrigerator again. I don’t want the leftovers from the meal I just made a few hours ago. I don’t want the leftovers from yesterday either. I shut the fridge and look in the pantry. Nothing of interest. I pause for a moment and open my mouth.

“Wait. Am I even hungry? Or am I just looking for something to do?”

I glance down at my stomach.

“No dude, don’t eat. Wait. Am I talking out loud to myself right now? My roommates probably think I’m psychotic.”

I check my phone again. It is definitely time to head back to bed and call it a night. I shrug my shoulders and open the fridge once more. The large gallon of milk catches my eye. I begin to brainstorm of a late-night snack that would pair well with milk. I dive into the pantry. No Oreos. No Poptarts. I don’t even have any bread. I see my roommate’s hamburger buns. I am beginning to feel like I am in college again and shrug once more. I head over to my roommate’s room and knock on the door.

“Yo, can I have one of these hamburger buns?”

Victorious, I head back to the kitchen yet again. I happily pull out a hamburger bun and open up my cabinet. No peanut butter. I check the fridge. No apple butter, no jelly, no nothing. I head over to the toaster and sadly butter my hamburger bun. I feel disgusting. Since I’m already at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, I throw some local honey (because fuck allergies) on the buns and close them up. I take the first bite of my butter-and-honey sandwich as a tear starts to roll down my cheek. Halfway through this shit sandwich, I realize that I am kind of full. Honestly, I don’t even want to finish. I stuff the last half in one bite. I take a sip of milk and walk to my bedroom. I stare into the mirror, looking deep into my soul. Who am I? What did I just eat? Did anybody see me? Will anybody know? How many pounds did I just gain? Why didn’t I just go to bed? Am I even hungry?

No, I was just bored.

Image via Shutterstock

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I'm just a cultured redneck that coaches hoops and loves Dale Earnhardt.

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