There I was today looking down into the abyss of a chip bag. Staring past its flimsy wall's lined with oil and salt, like a well with glistening sides and slivers of rock poking out. But unlike a well with life sustaining water at the bottom I found life decaying golden yellow, salty crisps. My love affair with chips is really a sickness. I love to find just the right chip in a bag. A large, unbroken one with the fry bubble. SICK I tell you SICK.
It's been one of those days. Where I've found a slight solace in food. Not for long, but long enough to realize the damage I was doing. Why I need solace has yet to be found out. If you find out why, let me know.
After all who can be too sad when you have this to look at:
It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for something you are not. ~ Andre Gide
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