I ate the children’s leftover chips standing over the sink

Dear Delyara, Not because I was hungry in a beautiful, intuitive way. Because I was too tired to make a proper decision. They’d left a few on the tray, already cooling, and I stood there picking them up one by one while staring into the middle distance like a woman in a kitchen advertisement for emotional depletion. I actually laughed at myself, which helped. Still, the moment stayed with me. I think what struck me was how absent I felt from my own care. Not starved. Not neglected in some dramatic way. Just secondary. Like real nourishment for me had become so low on the list that I was surviving on leftovers — not only food-wise, but emotionally too. Leftover time. Leftover silence. Leftover energy after everyone else had taken the fresher portions of me. That thought landed harder than the chips did.