May 11
There's something quietly sacred about a slow morning.
when you have nowhere to be urgently, nowhere to rush — just you, a piece of warm toast, and something dark and sweet and a little crunchy spread across it. the smell of roasted peanuts and chocolate before the rest of the world starts demanding things from you. it's such a small thing. a spoon, a jar, a quiet kitchen. but it feels like choosing yourself before the day begins. i don't know who needs to hear this but: you deserve a proper breakfast. even on the hard days. especially on the hard days.
