Sandwiched

I am burnt bread. Remember the saying that "You are what you eat"? Well, I am burnt bread. I am cheesed, tomatoed, peppered and sliced or halved..whichever.

Or am I the tomato smothered between cheese and bits of pepper, swallowed with pieces of burnt oh so burnt bread...I wonder which?

I made this sandwich oh, not because I want to eat it, but because I felt like making it, so now i have to eat it. I don't like to waste it or give it to someone else, I would like to taste it. Simply because I have made it, because it is mine, my art, my peace and strangely because it is me. What will you do huh? It is simply life!

Now I am going to eat it, taste it, cherish it, savour it. It will be cold, but i will heat it in the microwave and it's cheese will melt...It will melt for me.

I am going to take a bite, my first bite and chew it slowly...as slowly as can be.. I will count the number of times I have chewed it. Bite one, two , three, four bites, I forgot to count and unconsciously swallowed. Fourteen more slowly, I feel it's juice, it's hotness, it's texture, it's pepper in the aftermath.

Bite two, fourteen chews and i feel the crunch of it's burnt parts, it's juice, it's soft wetness, it's mushiness, I suck it in, it tastes great, the pepper and it sticks in my teeth.

I smell it, bite three. One to eighteen, I swallow, I crunch the tomato, yes and more tomato, taste the cheese, nineteen to twenty-four and another swallow. Still the pepper. A sniff of the nose. It burns.

Bite four. I smell toast, I bite, one, two , three, i hear the bite. Twenty-nine chews, more tomato, more pepper. As I eat, the more I want it, and I want to eat it in a hurry. I am not hungry, but I love it's taste. I will take a sip of tea and finish it off.

I am impatient. I can't bear the waiting. I burp...what does that mean? Does it mean that I was hungry after all? I will eat. Sip one, sip two.

I take deep breaths, I can't breathe very well. I will fix my hair and get ready to eat. I now feel like I am forced, compelled to eat because I have made it. I am the one who has made this great mess of a sandwich. I am what I eat.

By the time I finished my sandwich and re-read this, thinking about myself as this sandwich, I realized this...with two sips of tea and half the burnt sandwich, I already feel bloated.

I don't want it anymore but I still eat it and finish it off. There I am done. (Thank God!) What a task...and all because I wanted to make something. (Greediness!) Next time I'll just write about it. (Yeah right!)