Starvation

There is a hunger no food can satisfy. A hunger that sits deeper than the stomach, older than memory, and that sometimes feels as though it was already there before you even knew what you were missing.

Starvation is medically clear: the body does not receive enough nourishment to maintain its functions. It breaks down reserves, then muscles, then organs. At some point it gives up. But why does a person deprive themselves of what keeps them alive? Why does the most fundamental act — eating, nourishing, providing for oneself — become something they cannot allow themselves?

The psychosomatic perspective raises an uncomfortable but important question here: What if physical deprivation is a mirror of a soul's deprivation — a deprivation that began long before the first skipped meal?