Every moment of happiness is the little slice of cake, iced and fresh, handed to you on your birthday.
Will I ever be sufficed? The answer is no-- every natural smile is just a sliver of genuine sufficiency, the real big cake, being cut up and gifted to me throughout the years.
Will there be any left to spare? If so, how much until there are no slices left?
The days where I eat up more joy just leave less and less for the other moments I live in despair.
The only conclusion is that I must be salvaging happiness as I soak into the floor and burn tears through my pillow. I stare with a racing mind and a blank face at the pictures on the wall wondering if I’ll ever get another taste of the sugar I am now only sporadically fed. Natural smiles aren’t being handed to me anymore, so I must be storing up for something really, really sweet, right?
That’s what I tell myself, but the reality is that it doesn’t stop. The cycle in which you’re handed a slice of cake is an unpredictable, erratic one that doesn’t care if you starve, and it is in the moments where you haven’t been given any for too long that you realize that.