The first day, your stomach growls—a gentle whisper of hunger.
By day three, weakness sets in, your body searching for hidden reserves.
A week passes, and your muscles ache, conserving every ounce of energy.
By day ten, your mind drifts, light as a feather, lost between dreams and reality.
Two weeks in, your body slows, a fading candle in the wind.
At three weeks, survival depends on willpower and water alone.
By day thirty, only the strongest endure, their bodies mere shadows of themselves.
Beyond that, the line between life and death blurs like a fading sunset.
Food is not just fuel—it is life, woven into every heartbeat.
So when hunger calls, answer with kindness, for the body is a temple in need of care.