Okay, here we go. Pour yourself a cuppa, pull up a chair. Let’s talk about… well, me. And my belly. And this tricky thing called my mind.

Lunch just finished. Not just finished, you know? More like… it conquered me. Left me sitting here feeling like a beanbag chair that’s been loved way too much. My stomach is… full. So full. Like it’s packed with memories of every bite, and there’s just no room left for even a whisper of air. Heavy, but the nice kind. Like a warm blanket tucked right up under my ribs. Peace. That’s the word. Hard-earned peace after the great fork-and-knife battle of midday.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling that deep, settled quiet. Like the world outside could wait. Yeah, I survived. I won… or maybe the food won. Doesn’t matter. We called a truce.

And then. Out of the blue. A tiny little thought, light as a feather, floats into my head.

“Mmm, something sweet now would be perfect.”

Hold on. Who said that? It wasn’t the belly. Nope. My belly had already put up a “Gone Fishing” sign. It was done. Retired. Waving a little white flag made of pure fullness. It just wanted to chill.

But the mind. Ah, the mind. That’s a different story. It’s like it slept through the whole noisy feast but woke up just in time to tell everyone what they should have ordered. It skipped the hard work but showed up for the after-party, ready to judge.

This isn’t a one-time thing. This little show? It plays out inside me all the time.

See, my body… it’s like an old, honest friend. Doesn’t play games. It tells you straight. “Hey, I’m full.” Or “Oof, I’m tired, let’s rest.” Or “Careful there, buddy, that twist felt weird.” It sends little signals. Soft nudges. A gentle ache here, a sigh of relief there. It just… knows. It’s grounded. Real.

But my mind? Oh, my mind is like a clever magician on a busy street corner. All flash and distraction. It waves a sparkly scarf over here, whispering sweet nothings: “Just one tiny piece of chocolate.” “Come on, you were so good all morning, you deserve a treat!” “This little bite will make everything feel amazing.” And while I’m watching the scarf, it’s busy stealing the quiet peace right out of my other pocket.

And me? I fall for it. Pretty much every time. Then the poor belly starts to grumble, like, “Dude, I told you we were full!” And the mind? It throws its hands up, acting all surprised. “Oh, goodness! Why did you eat that? You have absolutely no willpower!”

Then comes Act Two: The Worry Cycle. The mind starts pacing the floor of my head. “Oh no, what about my sugar levels? Is this bad for me? Am I going to regret this forever?” It lights a tiny, flickering candle of guilt and makes a hushed, very serious promise: “Okay, starting tomorrow. No more sweets. For real this time. I swear.”

Isn’t that just the funniest, saddest thing? The mind sets the house on fire, then blames the matches, and finishes by saying a very solemn prayer for better fire safety tomorrow.

It tells itself it wants happiness. But maybe it confuses happiness with… shiny new things? It’s like a tourist who’s bored five minutes after arriving anywhere new, always looking for the next bus ticket, but somehow always ending up on the same old route. It keeps digging in the same patch of dirt, hoping this time it’ll find diamonds instead of just… more dirt. It chases excitement, but maybe it’s chasing its own tail?

And still… I follow where it leads.

It’s funny, though. There are these songs. Songs I’ve known since I was a kid. Same singer, same tune, same little crackle on the recording. Decades have zipped by. The world looks different. I feel different. But I put on one of those old songs, and something inside me just… settles. Like coming home. I never, ever get tired of them. Why is that? My mind doesn’t pipe up then, saying, “Ugh, this again? Bo-ring!” No. It just lets me feel it. Maybe it’s not just the music. Maybe it’s… me? The kid who first heard it is still in here somewhere. And the song is like a secret handshake back to him. It feels warm. Known. Safe. My mind accepts that loop without question.

Weird, right?

Maybe we’re all just walking in loops. Not the big, cosmic kind they talk about in books. Just these little, daily ones. The wanting, the getting, the regretting, the promising… repeat. Like drawing the same circle over and over again with slightly different coloured crayons, hoping it’ll turn into a square.

These patterns, these little circles… they’ve been with me forever, probably since day one. But it’s only recently, maybe the last few years, that I’ve started to really see them. Like suddenly noticing the pattern on the wallpaper you’ve stared at blankly a million times. You blink, and think, “Huh. It was always like that?” It’s a strange feeling. Kind of like waking up while you’re still dreaming.

Look, I’m not a wise guru. I don’t have any answers neatly packaged up. I’m just this guy, sitting here by the window, feeling stuffed and slightly confused, wondering why I keep having this same conversation with myself. Why I run this same little program day after day.

All I really know, deep down in my bones, is this: my belly was full. It was singing its happy, full song.

But I still ate the sweet.

And now… my mind, that restless little planner, that charming trickster… yeah. It’s already humming tunes about dinner. Maybe sketching out dessert options too.

And just like that, the loop resets.