Every day is the same.
Wake up, go to class, do work, go to bed.
Like clockwork – tirelessly stuck in a loop going tick by tock.
Boredom sets in and my thoughts wonder.
Tall white doors and a slippery golden knob catch my eye,
Like a deer in headlights, I can’t look away.
From top to bottom, left to right,
A fully stocked pantry, at my fingertips.
Salted almonds, red Doritos, and gusher fruit snacks take me to a different time.
Packets of Quaker’s sweet brown sugar oatmeal and Kraft mac and cheese.
I struggle to choose, so I take a little of everything.
I argue with myself until I’m convinced one bag and handful of each can’t hurt.
I rotate through each one, each bite growing bigger, my control getting smaller
I begin to dig, pour, and lick the remains until there is not a speck left.
What felt like two minutes was actually thirty,
And while my stomach is full, I still feel a hole to fill.
I struggle to sit still, not knowing what to do with myself now
I go through my phone, watch TV, but nothing is enough.
Thoughts of school, homework, chores, and my future resurface.
Reality beats my consciousness senselessly.
A tiny whisper calling my name reels me in, and my body goes into autopilot.
I take two of everything this time,
Believing that if I have more this time I won’t need to come back.
The flavors feel like ecstasy and the voices and doubts are silenced.
Every day is the same.
But there is a glimmer of hope still behind those doors.
I know exactly what’s there, and how much is left of each box.
I spend the whole day thinking about it.
Nothing else matters, the world slips away.
No more fears, anxiety, responsibilities.
This is all that matters.
For a few seconds and minutes, I am released.
I stop measuring and just take the whole container.
I enter into a haze, where time and quantity don’t exist,
But my hand reaching for the bottom of the bag wakes me.
I realize it’s dark outside and feeling comes swirling back taking me down the drain with it.
Nothing but pain and discomfort swell.
I quickly throw all the remnants away and lay down,
with each breath I think I might burst.
But at least I don’t feel anything else.
I hate the aches but love the distraction.
I know it’s wrong yet I don’t regret it.
The texture, taste, and satisfaction with each bite,
It’s all worth it.
It never lasts though,
But that’s okay, I can always go back for more.
That’s the best part, it’s always there,
At my will.
Writer | Olivia Keller ’26 | okeller26@amherst.edu
Editor | Olivia Tennant ’27 | otennant27@amherst.edu