If only I could get someone to make me just a morsel of food. Just a morsel. I kept murmuring to my self with the only strength in me. I lay in bed knackered. Knackered not from work but from my woman battles.
It’s that time of the month again. Comes with all forms of shenanigans. This month I don’t understand how I feel. The awkward thing is that I am not alone in the room. I had roommates living with me but I couldn’t even get to get some help from them.
It’s a complex situation. I had just moved in here and living with five different people from different works of life with different attitudes. Maybe if they had noticed that their Roomate has not left her bed all day talk more of eating, then maybe I could have reached out to them.
But here I was in the midst of self absorbed persons, everyone seems to be minding their business and no one wants to interfere with anyone’s privacy.
I had laid down from morning till evening battling the pains, the weaknesses and the dizziness. Just that these time around, I don’t know if the pain is from hunger or the regular. If you don’t stand up from here, you might as well become a vegetable.
At this point, the pain of hunger was more. With weary legs and staggering determination, I found my way to the kitchen to fetch me that life saving morsel of food.