The hunger that won’t let me rest
I ate already 9 gods. It feels powerful, like I’ve had everything in life and have everything I might need — everything people a hundred years ago would have called impossible.
I should be able to stop on 9. But between 9 and 10 there is a real gap, a cliff.
It’s the step where something purely numeric becomes a number. 10 is not just another integer — it’s 1 and 0 together, a new layer. 9 was the last digit, the limit.
I already have everything. But there’s this feeling inside, a stretch, a pressure that doesn’t let me calm down. This eternal fire keeps asking for the last missing piece.
The hunger forces me to look for my 10th god — the final piece of the puzzle I still need to find and eat.
9 is the last digit — the edge of simple counting, the human limit of the scale.
10 is when the scale breaks and becomes a system — the first step beyond the limit.
I already ate 9 gods. The promise is simple:
I’ll stop at ten.
Just one more step. Just one more god.
That’s what I keep telling myself.