I ate breakfast. I ate a lot of breakfast to the point where I’m not yet hungry.
Just because I don’t feel like eating lunch does not mean that I am: A, trying to starve myself to being model thin, or B, secretly suicidal, or C, wanting to make everyone else take care of me.
I don’t always want to eat when others do. That. Is. Alright. It is a conscious choice on my part, it hasn’t done me any harm, and it is exactly no one’s job to make me do it.
Getting grouchy when subjected to all three above failuretastic facts does not mean that my hobbies are useless, that I’m useless or that I need something to do with my life other than commit suicide.
Please spend some time studying psychology before psychoanalizing me, it is not appreciated when you do as such and get it completely wrong.