There is a rumbling in my stomach, speaking a long-forgotten language. Forgotten not because of neglect, but a desire to eliminate the need for thirst, hunger, and subsistence of all kinds.

Starvation is a small, unloved monster, sitting alone in the rain with a box of moldy Danishes and a cup of contaminated water. It cries out in the night for a friend, but can never keep them for long. Either it is pushed out by contentment or kills the very friend it made, its heart ever more saddened.

Starvation is angry at its plight. It did not ask to be the cause of so much grief and turmoil. It simply wants a place to live, a permanent residence to call home. It was once told that no such place exists for a being whose existence is a vacuum, pulling in all things like a black hole. The more perishable it is, the further it flies to the center of the lonely beast.

Starvation once made a deal with contentment and asked if they could share a room together. It was agreed, but they soon found that neither could stay in the same room without pushing out the other. So they decided to trade, jumping back and forth in a never-ending cycle.

Starvation always sees sadness and contentment always sees joy. They found a need for each other when they shared stories laden with loss and discovery as well as happiness and insight. As they trade-out, a new story is shared amongst them, their friendship growing until an entire tome was constructed from lessons learned together.

They now accept their lives and have found peace in movement, harmony in the connection of pain and pleasure, a deep understanding of knowledge through union.