Every day, regardless of how I feel I stay here. I stay here, alone, in the basement. In this dark alley of a basement everything seems frightening when you are first here. The wall that jets out straight for a surprise, the leaky wet walls and the smell of mold that surrounds you, the little rat's nest in the corner and some spiders. But you get used to it all. You get used to consistency, knowing that nothing is there that you haven't found out... Nothing can come in and yell at you or one day you hear your parents going at it in the den. Everything stays the same. And that is something that I kind of admire from living down here. Life before had too many unexpected events for breakfast to be spicy.
I eat potatoes, and that is pretty much all. (I found a cherry lifesaver in the corner once not too long ago) Mild, flavorless, raw potatoes. For breakfast and lunch, no dinner. Sometimes I pretend that it is something else though... Like I try and taste strawberries out of the unmistakable crunch of potatoes. Sweet, tart, juicy strawberries. They are the only food I long for, besides toast, cheese, ham, chicken, apples, cinnamon buns, raspberries, peanut butter, green beans, broccoli, tuna, bread, cookies, chocolate, celery and carrot sticks, tomatoes, spaghetti, lettuce, and, and....
Oh, who am i kidding! Sure I like to have consistency, and not much to expect... but not for everything. I want to taste the world! Potatoes just aren't enough. Daddy used to make me cold little shrimps, with a bitter sweet sauce. We'd sit at the table and munch on that until it was warm. I mean, gosh...
I still sit, crunching slowly, as if not to disturb the faintest taste of those strawberries dancing on my tongue. I never want to taste potatoes again.