By the time I finished showing houses late Sunday afternoon, I was exhausted and starving. It had been a busy weekend and I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten all day. But what did I want?
I felt a gnawing craving inside. It was a familiar craving, but what was it for? Was it for steak? Pizza? Chicken? I genuinely felt confused.
I’ve gone through this odd process a thousand times before. I’m hungry but everything I think of feels wrong. I stopped at a couple of restaurants, thinking they might be what I needed, but each time I stopped, I felt a cold emptiness — because I realized what I needed wasn’t inside.

I’m the common denominator for all of my dysfunctional romances
I’m weary of degenerate society where my values aren’t welcome
Take time to give honest praise, even when it’s just about a dog
Pursuing conscious life is harder than sleepwalking through a life
Bias, incompetence or manipulation? Things aren’t always what they seem
I don’t really hate you, honest; I’m just afraid you may hurt me
Dad who made space for daughter reminds me little moments matter