It’s not who you really are. You can’t help it. This unfortunate famished byproduct by no means exemplifies your chilled out satiated self. The unnecessary arguments, the friendships lost, mere frustrations from insufficient food filling. You become someone else. You become a wolf, or fox, or some other animal that hunts for food. Wielding fork and knife you prepare to indulge into the meal you’ve been not so patiently awaiting.
Bliss. Sweet bliss. Nourishment, at last. You apologize for your actions, attempt to mend the pains you have brought to those around you. Then you look down at these Hangry Socks as a reminder of the real you, as a reminder that you are just hangry.