Of course, not in restaurants or supermarkets. I just eat food I’m not supposed to. From my flatmates, mainly. It could be a small piece of carrot cake. A banana. A frozen hamburger. I can’t remember when I started but I know for sure that I can’t stop. The adrenaline keeps me going. For an even more pleasurable experience, I do it when people are next door and could come in any minute. Heaven on earth, believe me.
I guess it’s not so bad, after all. It’s not like I’m stealing all their food. And they care about me. I know I could go and ask them and they’ll probably say yes, but it wouldn’t be the same. Who keeps track of his food anyway? We’re all so busy living our exciting lives… Would you notice a missing tangerine? Probably not. Unless you’re a control freak or Sherlock Holmes. But you know, if life has taught me anything it’s that you should be extremely careful. Just in case. That’s why I do my best to erase any evidence.
At the beginning I used to do it randomly, every once in a while, when I felt like it. Now I meticulously plan when, what and how. And I do it every day. Several times. It keeps me busy. I feel like a ninja sometimes. Well, more like a slightly naughty superhero. Honestly, some days I feel like shit. Other days, extremely proud of myself.