Hungry. Hungry. It's been a month since you last had your fill. You've been getting by, just barely, just enough, off of cows and the occasional farmer and his wife and his kids and his dogs and his neighbors and their wives and their kids and their dogs, but it's not enough, actually. This isn't even anything slightly resembling "enough". It's not even you who's hungry. It's that other person in there with you. You're pretty aware by this point that it is (obviously) not, in fact, a person, but it talks and it thinks and it has wants and needs so it's basically a person. Just without all the rotten bits. The fake bits. The outside. It only has insides. Every side of it is an inside. It's made of truth and it's really, really hungry. You've finally made a friend and life is much simpler now. It's harder, sure, but it's only one thing you need to worry about anymore. Nobody hollers at you about rules that make no sense or stupid, stupid books. Food. Hungry. That's the only thing that exists in the entire world now. You like this change. Nobody can hurt you anymore. Nothing can stop you now, no matter what. You swallow them whole and they're done. It's over. You win. Hungry.
The crop fields end, and the woods begin. Somewhere new. New food will be here. Hungry. Nothing can stop you. Nothing can hurt you. But you're very, very hungry. You didn't used to be hungry, in fact you were quite well-fed, by your own standards, between the beatings and lectures you took great enjoyment in many a frozen dinner or instant mac & cheese, perhaps even a boiled hot dog or three. But all of that is pig shit now. It doesn't stack up. Everything tastes better, now, when you swallow it whole. Life has just begun.
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