hunger

 I haven't had breakfast .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·. 

It's 11:33 am now, and I woke up at 6:10 am. The smell of Japanese curry wafts in through my window. My stomach grumbles, low and guttural (literally). 

My cup of finished milo sits next to my laptop. Brown froth had spilled over its sides, but now its dried on the smooth white surface, looking like rot against a pristine canvas. 

Why don't I eat?

Well, my mother is awake now and we're preparing to go downstairs to have lunch at the coffeeshop. 

What should I eat?

Yesterday, I had fishball noodles, so I can't have that today. 

A picture of someone taking a big portion of fishball noodles. Personally, I prefer mee kia noodles, which are the thin, tube-like ones. But I actually haven't had mee pok, the flat ones, in a long time. Perhaps it's about time I've had it again. I mean, it technically is a different meal.

Actually, maybe I will. The fishballs I had yesterday tasted really good. Not too fishy, like how they sometimes are (from a particular shop). 

Is that bad? The lack of fishy-ness, that is. I think that means that the fishballs aren't fresh or handmade. They're probably from a factory, churned into little white balls of flesh by huge chunks of machinery. 

I can just imagine their innocent white bodies being lumped onto an industrial conveyer belt, marching forward relentlessly as they were hauled to the packaging area. 

And I, as the consumer, just another cog in the machine. The machine of capitalism.