MOULD FOR BREAKFAST AGAIN

What the stench of stupidity cost me.

The sluggish drag of every dawn.

Piss-yellow fatigue crawling under my skin like mildew.

Appetite swallowed whole by the hours — body, brain, all devoured.

I took the warning signs like sugar-coated pills — sweet poison, easy to choke down.

I chose this. Again. And again.

I let the rot settle.

Spread slow, like black mould blooming behind forgotten wallpaper — patient, unseen, obscene.

My gut churned, a clogged drain gnawing at silence. I called it normal.

My joints screamed climbing stairs — I called it age.

I wheezed through mornings, belched through nights, smiling anyway.

Like a coward. A liar. A man praying no one noticed.

I didn’t eat. I inhaled.

Soda fizzed like betrayal on my tongue.

Water skipped; more junk poured.

Meals swapped for stale snacks.

I stripped my stomach raw with chilli, sweeteners, shame.

Not nutrition — I craved numbness.

I stayed wired, twitching under electric ceilings.

Eyes locked to screens. Hands clenched on air.

Sleep? A myth.

Movement? A memory fading.

Traded sunlight for buzzing bulbs.

Silence for static hums.

And called it living.

When headaches came, I blamed the heat.

When my gut ballooned, time took the blame.

When days passed without relief, I blamed stress.

When I knew — I blamed everything but me.

No gun to my head.

No catastrophe. No trauma.

Just me, bleeding out in slow motion.

A thousand small betrayals.

Stupid. Silent.

I did this.

Ignored the tightness clutching my chest.

The ache gnawing my joints.

The fog creeping behind my eyes.

Called it getting older, not falling apart.

Let it rot.

No doctor needed.

The symptoms had names — mine alone.

Self-inflicted. Systematic.

I became the disease.

-------------------------------------------------------

These stories aren’t rare.

They’re just rarely told early enough.

Most decline begins in silence —

a skipped check-up, a swollen ankle, a breath you dismiss.

If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.

Most illness doesn’t start with a bang.

It starts when silence becomes habit.

Lingzhi isn’t a miracle.

It’s a habit.

A quiet, daily way to care for the body —

before silence becomes suffering.

📌 Lingzhi is a traditional food taken to support general well-being. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease. For personalised advice, please consult a qualified healthcare practitioner.

#SubHealthStories #HealthIsAHabit #HappyHealthyLingzhi