I ate toast standing up over the sink again

Dear Delyara, I don’t think this is a random habit anymore. I think it’s a symptom. It’s how I eat when I don’t trust the evening to let me finish a plate properly. It’s how I feed myself when sitting down feels too official, too interruptible, too likely to invite one more conversation or task before I’m done. So I stand there, half hungry, half braced, pretending this counts as a meal and not the emotional shape of a woman who has learned that her own needs may have to be taken in fragments between everybody else’s. The toast was fine. The real feeling was not.