This troubling absence of desire

'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it

I haven’t wanted to eat for awhile.

Since November actually.

See, there’s a difference between wanting and needing to eat. I eat now when I know I’ll be incoherent at a meeting. Or once my stomach is making loud, painful demands.

It troubles me because I used to love food. Then it starts to dawn on me that my favourite dishes all had associations with feelings and not so much taste.

The best lasagna I ever had was in a small cafe where I would hang out after school to attempt my Add Maths homework. Alone with my books in the midst of the smells of the kitchen and the comforts of a cushy booth. School was hard but right then, right there it was all good.

The best kurma I’ve had is my mother’s. But then I also remember the care she’d take with her cooking, the times she’d take a mouthful of rice in her hand and feed it to me. Every time I eat with my hands, I think of her.

The best pastry I tasted was in Copenhagen, Denmark. The danishes in La Glace don’t crumble – they melted in your mouth. It wasn’t at all what I expected. But then I never thought I’d be holidaying in a little flat on Istedgade, cooking kai lan in oyster sauce and seeing the street walkers come out after dark from my window.

All the food I loved all were associated with memories, with feelings.

Then I remember I had a breakup in November. Aah.

I remember telling you I loved you more than life.

I recall never being happier in my life than that long ago summer in Denmark.

I remember when I first saw you I stopped breathing. So cliche but really, I was frozen to the spot. Right then, right there you were all that existed for those few seconds before I came to my senses.

I have never wanted nothing more than I have wanted you.

So now I gave you up, I have nothing left to want. I pick at my food. I have no cravings, no longings to fill the void.

There was a temporary moment when I played with fire, when I momentarily attempted to rekindle whatever passion I hadn’t given over to you. The trouble was my matches fell on damp soil. It’s painful to hear within the walls of your own home the words: “I keep thinking of this girl and I don’t mean to offend you but you aren’t her.”

It hurt but at least I felt something. Now I’m back to feeling and wanting nothing.

I gave you everything, it seems, and kept nothing for myself.

As the Fool said to Fitz: I have never been wise.

2 Comments

  1. Andre Reutens
    ·

    Hi there. Hang in there. Yup that’s the only thing I can say, cos I know what it is to reminisce and remember with feelings attached (some painful) . For there is no pain greater than a loss or even the void you’re in – not forgetting the numb that engulfs too.
    Time to move on even if you don’t feel you can… Life needs you as much as you it. INFJs tend to have this uniqueness about them – the want and desire for stability and balance in life, analysing and reanalysing till reality becomes blurred, hence we may withdraw and cocoon around our own walls – while life goes on.
    Admittedly, I follow your blog every now and then. I can somehow feel what you go through, though I can’t explain how. I’ve navigated through a few storms; warded of monsters of painful past with His help and of course close friends, and coming to terms with “acceptance”.
    Sigh. Ok. I will stop here. I will let you be but I will say this – Though we’ve not met, I wish you well and with His guidance, He’ll somehow fill that void – Believe me. Take care. God bless.

    Reply
  2. sheryl
    ·

    one of these sundays after church, I can take you to my favourite pan mee stall – me and my little green car. so you can create new memories. =)

    Reply

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