"Breakfast as an Act of Rebellion", Kimberley Chia
cw: Eating disorders
this morning I peeled back the blinds and found peace. in its every elusive iteration. found the blueprint of a laugh. found the damn hair tie I’d lost five months ago, slick in three layers of dust and the stench of courage — of a pessimism I no longer possess; look now.
the bed is finally making itself. the night light has shed itself of the ache, no longer swallows itself whole. kisses itself goodnight and almost believes it for all of seven hours and sixteen minutes. I still don’t know how long it takes to make a solid boiled egg, but today I keep the shells off the floor. my mother says it must be a defect of god's humor that he directs our hearts everywhere but those who have a right to them, and right now I’m pretty sure he’s guiding me to pancakes. so I make some, and lather each thick with butter, nutella and defiance because we both know I am still re-learning impulse-control. I set the table, but still make a mess — syrup sewing split
ends and fullness cocooning into the bottom of my belly in a way so foreign it is almost too heavy to bear. my throat is an invitation upwards, but then I remember: everything will break down but still passes
out, in time.
[1] "I no longer possess the courage of my pessimism." - Atonement, Ian McEwan
[2] “It is a defect of God's humor that he directs our hearts everywhere but to those who have a right to them.” - Arcadia, Tom Stoppard