My butt hurts a little bit from sitting down for so long in this rigid seat and my chest is on fire from this ridiculously oversized crewneck sweatshirt. Were I to remove it, however, this chilly room's icy breeze would certainly worsen my discomfort. Here lies my first paradox, a two-forked road with one path only slightly less intolerable than the other. As I type and type, I grow more and more aware of my need for nourishment; the pit in my stomach grows deeper and deeper with every word I translate to paper, leaving me fuller and fuller of an aching desire to gorge on anything I can find.

After reaching that point, of which I am no longer able to discern longing for nourishment from any other thought, and after deciding that I must consume something, I arose and left my computer where it lay, the cursor blinking away, awaiting my return.

The cuisine, being quite a conglomeration of foods I both adore and abhor, glares up from the pale foam platter it lay on. I cannot quite decide whether or not the meal as a whole appeals to me in any unironic way. The cookies — two, this time (I was fortunate enough to have the server bless me with an extra) - sit desecrated beside the dubious loaf of meat and mediocre wedges of barely-fried potato.

Apple juice, being the choicest selection in my eyes and coming in no contact with the untrustworthy slab of... whatever it is, was devoured in an instant, and soon only the dregs remained at the bottom of the clear plastic goblet which contained it. The minuscule cookies were gobbled soon afterward.

The uninviting chunk of pale maroon flesh, now the only subsistence remaining before me, squished repulsively around my fork, oozing some unappetizing red paste as it was perforated by my utensil, and made its way slowly up and into my mouth. I truly attempted to make the most of this ridiculous morsel, and despite its appearance, its taste appealed to me more than I predicted it might.

But now it was gone, now I sat completely unattended; not even that once-horrible thing remained to keep me company. Alone, I still sat, typing my soul away on a computer, accounting nothing more than my easily avoidable procrastination of a paper that I may have finished days earlier, had not I decided to do whatever inconsequential frivolity that seemed so pressing at the moment.