There are moments
when the world goes quiet…
not in a peaceful way.
But in a way where
you disappear inside it.
That’s how I felt one day a few weeks back.
It was a difficult night.
An emotional night.
But I knew, the next day holds a promise.
That morning, I didn’t need something grand.
No layers.
No ceremony.
No “effort.”
Just food.
Real food.
Fried rice.
Eggs, soft and barely holding together.
Bacon, a little crisp, a little uneven.
Nothing plated to impress.
Everything placed to eat.
I wasn’t chasing comfort.
Not the kind that wraps around you
and asks you to feel everything at once.
I wasn’t ready for that.
I just needed something
that would meet me gently.
Halfway.
So I took a bite.
Small.
Careful.
And there it was.
Not joy.
Not relief.
Not anything loud.
Just…
something.
A quiet shift.
Like a door inside me
unlocking
just enough to let light in.
The salt.
The warmth.
The weight of it.
Simple. Grounded. Real.
It didn’t ask questions.
It didn’t demand I explain myself.
It just… stayed.
As I ate spoonful after spoonful, I looked forward to the day ahead.
I knew it was going to be a new day.
A good day.
A day where I won’t be treated as background noise.
And for the first time that day,
I just stayed in the feeling.
Not fully.
Not all at once.
But enough.
Because sometimes healing
doesn’t come in waves.
It comes in bites.
And sometimes,
the first bite
is everything.
--
Lady E
P. S.
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