It feels dark to admit all this.

Dear Self,

I am standing in the fluorescent shop with my hands on an aluminium plastic coated red hot looking air filled packet of MSG soaked deep fried corn and I know that this isn’t a place I want to be but I can’t stop myself.

I look around furiously for an alternative. A magazine with half naked fat shamed men and women on the cover, a small log of sugar coco salt and peanuts, a container of water sugar bubbles and food colouring.

It is early evening, fast becoming late evening. I have had no dinner. I sat at my computer finishing words on a page for an hour or so longer than I had hoped.

The air pocket filled with deep fried corn wins.

I shove each triangle into my mouth as I run walk to the tram that will get me home. The crunch and zing in my mouth settles something in me.

I finish.

Then I am left with the wrong things.

I screw the empty plastic foil pillow up and dig a hole and bury it in landfill. It will never really disappear. I sit and feel a strange sensation in my mouth like I have taken one of those chemical wipes you use for a computer screen and scoured the internal surface of my mouth with it. I am thirsty, and this feeling lasts well into the next morning. I know because I wake up early with funny feeling lips, a bit snotty and this thirst.

When I chose this I felt that I deserved it, as a reward for my hard work, a treat.

I don’t deserve this.

Feeling guilty doesn’t work for me. I don’t do guilt.

Instead I just look at this, accept it, be curious about it, be kind about it.

I laugh at the absurdity of rewarding myself in this way.

It feels dark to admit all this.

Luke