Hungry

This passge is the lovechild of my current obsession with The Glass Castle (a memoir by Jeannette Walls) and my own angry hunger (due to my fasting for Lent.)
I highly recommend reading TGC.
&&&&
My hunger doesn’t just growl, it roars. 

The way I live, you’d think I’d be used to it. With Daddy laid off again we’ve all gotta sacrifice a little. But it seems I’ve been sacrificin my whole life. Ya know? It’s high time we had a pot of chili on the stove and a few slabs of cornbread baking in the oven.

 Me, I’ve always been the only one in the family with an appetite. If I could control the thing, I would, truly. But my hunger isn’t just some frustrated thing rollin around in my stomach. It’s a furious beast, one that not only paces and tears around my poor stomach, but also expands and moves and prowls about my entire body, squeezing every organ it can.

 That’s why it’s always been my dream to get outta this rinky dink shack and be chef out in the big city. I bet chefs are some of the most well-fed folks on the planet, on account of all the food they gotta deal with every single day.

 My sis Ginny says it’s a stupid dream, says there ain’t no way I’m getting outta this town. She screws up her mouth when she says this, raises her eyebrows too, like she’s so wise and I’m so dumb. I suppose she thinks this makes me wanna quit, cause there ain’t a lotta folks believing in me. Maybe she thinks that, but it just makes me itch for the city more, itch for the shiny silver surfaces of restaurant kitchens. No, I’m not just itchy, I’m hungry. Hungry for those dreams like I’m hungry for a piece of blueberry pie. And I’ll get ‘em. I ain’t gonna have this beast roamin around inside a’me my whole life. Someday I’ll be full.