I wanted to eat lunch sitting down like a person

Dear Delyara, Instead I ate it half-standing by the counter, interrupted twice, answering one message with my free hand and mentally listing what I still had to do after. That’s the part that made me sad. Not the sandwich. The shape of me while eating it. There is something about never fully arriving to your own food that says too much about your place in your own life. I am always on my way to the next thing, even when feeding myself. Even then. I think I miss slowness more than I miss rest. Rest can feel impossible. Slowness feels human. And some days I feel less human than useful.