I don’t buy enough food to support a depression. As I’ve stated before I do not seek hierarchy in my emotions and therefore am prone to bouts of depression, existential angst, and fearful running away. I do most of these with a smile on my face because I am aware that this means I am living correctly. The problem is that these bouts, however non normative they may be, are still supplemented with the typical lethargy and hunger that is associated with depression. Considering how lazy I am in my normal life and how desperately I constantly seek food, this means I become a mindless, moveless, eating machine.
The problem is that I live on restaurant row and work in a restaurant and my kitchen has flooded multiple times with the sewage of the entire apartment building. I don’t buy many groceries. When I lived in Maine, I had a basement full of outdated healthfood snacks that I would bring into my recliner chair to comfort me in my time of upper class white guilt, but now I have no chips to keep my mouth in constant motion, and I have no sleeves of cookies to magically disappear during the time it takes a sitcom to finish because I forget to buy snacks.
Snacks are more important than we pretend they are. If I could just eat snacks and not eat meals, I would. Especially if there were dipping sauces.
There was a summer where I lived next to a Super America. Super America is the convenience store of the midwest that offers you chili if you push a button. I loved SA. I used to go there for donuts and come away with a sandwich, cheese and ranch dipping sauces and three different bags of chips. The best part about that was not finishing all the chips. Tomorrow, when you are playing mariokart and don’t want to leave the house, you don’t have to because you have bags of opened doritos lining every part of the house.
I need to buy more chips and leave them in secret hiding places all around the house. That would keep me going through this depression. It also might bring me friends in the form of rodents. YAY!