Chloe - Confessional

Painful memories recounted

I remember the feeling of hunger.

It's not the kind now where I just need a sandwich or light snack to fill the ache. It's the kind where you don't know when you'll eat next. It's the kind that claws at your stomach and makes it almost impossible to turn in that quiz.

It's the kind that makes your hair fall out and bruises litter your knees. It's the kind that separates you from a bubble of society. It's the kind I even romanticized and counted the ribs poking through my skin.


I have rationed food before.

That sounds vague. But let me tell you, exactly what I mean. I remember having slices of ham allotted for me to eat that day. Let's say I could only have 3 slices, because that's all we had left.

When my grandmother needed us to watch her cat, instead of my mom finding a more responsible owner or even taking the cat to the shelter, she tried to let the cat starve. I would always give Chloe my one slice of ham. She still died, by the way.


I remember begging for food.

My mother would actively become upset when me and my siblings would ask. It sounds casual right? When's dinner?

But her response would be something to the effect of, "Stop asking, you know there's not any food, and I can't do anything about it." Not only that, but my hunger was also systemic. Even the neighborhoods we lived in were usually deprived of fresh foods. Pizza bagels and chips were staples not because we were lazy or wanted to be unhealthy, but because that's the food at the corner store in walking distance. And it's the food that won't spoil the second you blink.