I ate the last biscuit in the kitchen alone and hid the wrapper under another piece of rubbish

Dear Delyara, I’m laughing writing that because it sounds so petty. And yet I know exactly why I did it. The biscuit wasn’t really the point. The point was that I wanted one thing not to be shared, explained, divided, or made visible as another small family resource. One biscuit. One private softness. One choice that didn’t immediately become communal. Motherhood does that to you. It can make tiny selfishness feel like oxygen. I don’t think I’m a bad person for wanting that. I think I’m tired.