put one foot in front of the other.

A conversation with oneself in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Footsteps.

“Good God! What were you thinking when you ate the whole seven, SEVEN, because I think it bears repeating, KFC’s chicken wings?”

“i wasn’t thinking. that’s the whole purpose, right?”

“Uh, NO!! Good God! I can’t believe you ate the whole entire bucket. What kind of a monster are you?”

“a hungry one?”

“Please don’t joke around with me right now.”

“calm. down. whatever happened to our deal? you’re the calm and collected one, and i am the voice of reason.”

“The voice of reason? You’re kidding me, right? What kind of a voice of reason would eat the whole entire bucket of chicken wings? And don’t tell me it’s the hungry kind, because I call bull on that.”

“alright, you’re going to have to start telling me why you’re freaking out over a bucket of chicken wings. it’s not like you’re not enjoying it.”

“This. Is. Stress. Eating! STRESS EATING!! You’re binge eating because you’re stressed out, and frankly speaking, that’s not healthy! You have got to stop this binge eating thing.”

“pfft, what are you talking about? stressed? who’s stressed? if anyone is stressed out right now, that’s going to be you”

“Duh, and whose fault is that?”

“yours.”

“How is it my fault?”

“i don’t know. i can’t be at fault here. i’m just the voice of reason. i am the sum of everything that you’re going through. the fact that my first instinct is to eat the whole entire bucket of chicken wings is probably derived from the fact that you are stressing out about something, therefore i have to do some crazy and wild stuff to take my mind or your mind or whatever, i’m confused now, from that stressing out thing.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s just work. Wait, wait, don’t give the eye roll. Work’s not that bad. I’m getting the hang of it. It’s just the constant responsibility, and the constant ringing of my phone, even on weekends, it’s driving me to the edge, you know? I know that work is suppose to be demanding, but I never thought I’d be that person that would be taking phone calls about work on weekends. It feels strange and not me. And it’s freaking me out. What if I change into this horrible adult that have its phone attached or sewed onto their hand because work is just so demanding? It’s my nightmare.”

“man, that sucks. but it’s not like there’s much we can do about, is there? you know, except for going through it all, hoping along the way you’ll get used to it or able to figure out what to do with the sudden changes. what’s that thing you used to say when people asked you about your plan for the future?”

“I don’t have a specific plan, I’m just putting one foot in front of the other.”

“maybe it’s time to walk the walk? look, do the job if you have to, and i’m guessing you kinda have to. eat if you feel like it’ll make you feel better, and when we gain too much weight, we’ll figure something else on how to address that. i can’t vouch that i won’t be eating the whole bucket of chicken wings, but i can promise you that we’ll figure out these changes together. besides, you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

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