I miss my Berkeley friends. I miss being distracted by research and bioengineering classes. I miss always being forced to keep moving and not have time to stop and think about my inner thoughts. Just keep going forward. Just keep working. Just keep wandering and staring at the city, oh the city you can get lost in.
The little things matter to me. The fact that someone remembers you like this little object or food or style or you like having something turned like this or like that. The fact that people thought you important or close enough to remember these little quirks. Theory of mind, theory of mind; damn runny nose.
I want instant recognition. You work so hard. You get stuff for people.
But never is the response up to expectations. Always some comment how it's wrong. Just say, "Thank you so much! :D" GODDAMMIT. You're not a friggin' MOF judge from France. Don't analyze it that much. Give me a smile. "Aw you remembered?"
Yes I did. Yes I friggin' did.
Why do I try anymore? Being nice gets reciprocation only after you have invested so much of yourself into it and then finally does the other decide they can give a speck of their kindness or appreciation.
1:00 am. I want another donut. I want to smash my chiffon cake. I want to smush that mosquito flying around my room.
I don't want to bake again because I keep getting depressed each time. But I want to keep baking to get better and to try these amazing recipes I keep reading about. But the after-effects is just so aggravating on my psyche.
I have an unhealthy relationship with baking and cooking.
I will always have an unhealthy relationship with food, it seems.