Some days I feel like letting everything go.
Like meals don’t really matter.
Like I don’t even want to try anymore.
Honestly, some days I don’t want to try at all.
So tonight, I cooked.
Nothing special.
Fried rice, gyoza, and miso soup.
One of the simple meals my mom used to make.
Cooking.
Setting the table.
Sitting down properly.
Actually eating.
Tonight’s fried rice was just rice, egg, a little soy sauce, and salted kombu.
The gyoza were store-bought.
The miso soup was dashi, miso, and tofu.
Nothing fancy.
But doing this — cooking and eating like this — feels like a small promise to myself.
I’m still learning how to put my life back together.
One meal at a time.
Little by little.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
What’s your comfort meal when you’re trying to hold yourself together?
by Tokyo_Elena_