Dieting habits

It's in the air I breathe. 

Maybe it's a chemical reaction triggered from the impulses in my brain, that might change the substance of my breathing-feast. I'm choking on frustration, chewing on anguish, fasting on potential. 

I'm grubbing down the possible outcomes, my dessert is coated in dark luscious predestination, confirmed. I munch down my conformity and fill up on self sufficency, I need people to like me. 

Take that as an invitation to dinner. 

Would you like some half-empty cup of air?

Half shaken or stirred?