My stomach is full; I hate this feeling. This is nausea, this is uneasiness, this is revulsion. Yet I’m still always hungry, it’s still questionable for what. I sit at the table speaking to end up finding myself being ignored. My mind is craving a plate served with patience and a side of grace. Waiter please, give me a round of piece of mind for
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XD
sorry i can't come up with a more insightful and poetic comment, but fat asses like moi can't concentrate when someone even thinks of mentioning food...
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