that kept arriving as almosts.
Today feels like one of those tiny, golden days that sneaks in quietly.
After what feels like a small eternity of healing, I finally got to enjoy a spring roll again.. grilled pork tucked inside, because shrimp alone simply wasn’t going to tell the whole story. Dipped in peanut sauce, with a little sriracha and hoisin for good measure.
And maybe that’s the thing.
Maybe life was never meant to come exactly as it was handed to us.
Maybe we’re allowed to add a little more sauce.
A little spice.
A different filling.
Maybe we’re allowed to look at what we’ve been given and say, Hmm… I think I’d like mine a little differently.
For a long time, I thought certain things would simply arrive.
The life.
The promises.
The grand picture.
I waited for things that kept arriving as almosts.
And eventually, I realized that disappointment has a funny way of disappearing when you stop handing other people the blueprint to your happiness.
So now, I’m customizing.
Not because I know exactly what every ingredient will be, but because I’m finally willing to make the meal myself.
I don’t want a life that’s entirely extravagant, and I don’t want one that’s entirely simple.
I want both.
The fancy dinner and the instant noodles.
The spontaneous adventure and the quiet night at home.
The restaurant where someone else cleans the table… and the little meal I make myself while standing barefoot in the kitchen.
There is something strangely beautiful about both.
And maybe that’s because we’re not supposed to spend our whole lives searching for the perfect batch.
Life is more like a bag of M&M’s.
You open it and you don’t know what you’re getting.
Maybe there are more reds than blues.
Maybe there are colors you don’t particularly care for.
Maybe you reach in expecting one thing and pull out something completely unexpected.
But you don’t throw away the entire bag because you didn’t like one color.
You keep reaching.
You taste.
You discover.
You learn.
And sometimes you realize the color you thought you didn’t like was actually your favorite all along.
I’ve also been thinking about vision lately.
We talk about having 20/20 vision as though seeing clearly is something that simply exists or doesn’t.
But sometimes we’re farsighted.
Sometimes we’re nearsighted.
Sometimes everything gets a little blurry.
And sometimes we just need to adjust the lens.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing.
Adjusting.
Correcting.
Looking again.
Because when you finally see clearly, the little things become much louder.
A kind gesture.
Someone remembering.
Someone being considerate.
A warm meal.
A good conversation.
A peaceful moment.
A spring roll with exactly the right amount of sauce. 🤭
None of it has to be enormous to be meaningful.
And maybe I don’t need to analyze every person who isn’t capable of giving me what I hoped they would.
Some people are simply not my color.
Some batches are better than others.
Some things are sweet.
Some things are bitter.
And some things are just… oddly shaped little lessons.
But I’m learning not to let one bad piece convince me the entire bag is ruined.
Because life is still delicious.
And I intend to taste all of it.
The good.
The strange.
The unexpected.
The beautifully imperfect.
I’m not sitting around waiting for my life to be delivered anymore.
I’m making it.
One little customization at a time.
And perhaps the funniest part is that the moment I stopped expecting the world to hand me exactly what I wanted…
I started noticing how much I already had.
Maybe that’s what clarity looks like.
Maybe that’s what healing tastes like.
And maybe, just maybe…
I finally got a good batch. 🍬✨
Dear Diary, 