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present tense.

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spencer was hungry. past tense.
spencer isn't hungry. present tense.
he's curled up in a ball in his bed, trying to remember who he was before he fell apart, and trying desperately hard to believe that he doesn't have a problem, he just doesn't have an appetite. he's barely breathing and he's scatching at the glass box inside his own mind that he's trapped in, the harrowing fact that he can't simply save himself becoming clearer with each passing second.
spencer isn't hungry (but he should be) and he swears that he'll eat something as soon as the infamous case call comes in, which is a shitty attempt at rationalisation if he ever heard one.
it's not a problem because it doesn't affect his work. it's not a problem because he eats when his brain is needed. spencer knows that his head can't work the way it has to unless he eats but he just doesn't want to. he doesn't have to. 

he uncurls from the position he was in, weak electricity humming underneath his skin like he's a power line. he lives for this feeling. heaving one foot in front of the other, spencer hauls himself to the kitchen, faintly surprised that after not having eaten for three days he's even able to get that far without the familiar headrush of starvation weighing him down. spencer's not stupid enough or new enough to this to believe that the dizzy spells won't start soon but he welcomes the brief stretch of complete autonomy. he knows he'll wish he had it back soon.

standing in front of the closed fridge, spencer just stares without seeing. the surface needs to be cleaned. he doesn't have any fridge magnets anymore. food is sustenance only, not something to be decorated.

spencer's only being cruel to himself when he opens the cool vessel, staring at the food inside. it's all within his reach and if he just lifted his arm up, he'd be touching a bottle of milk that was a quarter full (three quarters empty). he'd just being cruel to himself at this point, but spencer doesn't feel like he deserves the luxury of self love. 

sighing as heavily as his frail body will allow, he turns and attempts to walk back to his bedroom without having to crawl. his fingernails needed a trim and they're all flimsy and breakable anyway from shoving his fingers down his throat one too many many times.

spencer isn't hungry. present tense.

spencer falls down. present tense.

spencer stands up and pretends he didn't hit his head on the floor and that he didn't stay down for longer than he usually does when these things happen.

present tense.