I wasn’t hungry for food so much as for being looked after

Dear Delyara, I realized that while standing in front of the fridge. The appetite was real, but not only physical. I wanted ease. Warmth. A little less self-management. Something given, not made. Something that didn’t ask me to become the provider of my own relief one more time before bed. I think adulthood is full of these hidden substitutions. Hunger that is partly for food, partly for gentleness. Tiredness that is partly sleep, partly being held. I wish those layers were easier to separate in real time. Tonight, they weren’t. I just felt the ache of both.