Starvation is not simply the absence of food. It is the slow unraveling of the body’s dignity, the erosion of hope with every passing hour. It begins as a whisper in the stomach — a gentle reminder that something is missing. But as time stretches on, that whisper becomes a roar, a gnawing emptiness that consumes thought, energy, and spirit.

The body grows heavy, not with strength, but with weakness. Limbs tremble from the effort of standing. Eyes glaze over, not from sleep, but from the absence of sustenance. The mind, once sharp and curious, becomes fogged with desperation. Hunger doesn’t just steal calories — it steals clarity, joy, and the ability to dream.

There is a pain that comes with starvation that is unlike any other. It is not sharp like a wound or sudden like a fall. It is slow, deliberate, and cruel. It tightens around the ribs, presses against the spine, and settles deep in the bones. It is the ache of being forgotten, of watching others eat while your own hands remain empty. It is the humiliation of begging, the shame of being seen as less than human because your stomach cries louder than your pride.

And yet, the worst part is not the physical pain. It is the silence that surrounds it. The world moves on, indifferent to the hollow bellies and sunken cheeks. Starvation is invisible until it is fatal. It hides in plain sight — in the child too tired to play, in the mother who skips meals so her children can eat, in the elder who pretends they’re not hungry.

To starve is to be erased slowly. It is to feel your body betray you, to feel your spirit dim. It is a pain that no one should bear, and yet millions do — every day, every hour, every minute. 😔

©️ Beatriz Esmer