I ate standing up again

Dear Delyara, I told myself it was only because I was in a rush. But I wasn’t, not really. I was just too restless to sit down with myself properly. So I stood in the kitchen, eating quickly, not tasting much, looking at nothing in particular. Half the meal was gone before I even realized I was hungry enough to be relieved by it. I think that’s the part that made me sad. Not the standing. The absence. The way I can still move through ordinary care as if I am only supervising my own life instead of living inside it. Food became fuel, then task, then background. I don’t know when I got so good at disappearing from small moments that should have belonged to me. Tonight I noticed. That is not everything. It is not nothing either.