Eating last night's parmo

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Like when your stomach is screaming for mercy and your brain is still trying to convince you it's a good idea.

I ate last night's parmo like it was my ex and I was still trying to make it work.

I didn't know if I was hungry or just mad at myself for not eating breakfast.

The parmo was cold. My heart was colder.

The saddest version of comfort food, like your parmo was tired and didn't want to be eaten again.

I ate last night's parmo because I was too lazy to make a new one and too proud to admit it.

It was like eating a sad version of my childhood.

I felt like a ghost haunting my own fridge.

Like your parmo was a bad relationship you kept coming back to because you didn't know how to leave it alone.

I ate last night's parmo because I was too tired to start a new fight with my fridge.

It was like going back to an ex who still had your old coffee mug.

I didn't know if I was eating parmo or just eating my own mistakes.

The parmo was like your old job, you knew it was bad but you still ate it because you were too lazy to quit.

I ate last night's parmo like it was my old job and I was still trying to prove I wasn't a failure.

It was like eating a paycheck you knew was fake.

I felt like I was feeding my brain a bunch of lies.

Your parmo was like your mom, you knew it was bad for you but you still ate it because you didn't know how to say no.

I ate last night's parmo because it was like eating my mom’s advice and I didn’t know how to argue back.

It was like your mom said, 'Just eat it, you’ll feel better later.' And you believed her.

The parmo was like your mom yelling at you from the kitchen while you were eating pizza.

Like your parmo was a middle school lunch, you didn’t know what you were eating, but you knew it wasn’t good.

I ate last night's parmo like it was my middle school lunch and I still didn’t know what I was doing.

It was like eating a mystery meat and hoping it would taste better.

I felt like I was back in the cafeteria, wishing I had a better lunch.