Author: Lily Matthews

Date: April 26, 2025

I had been looking forward to breakfast for so long. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the peace of it, the comfort of sitting with a cup of coffee in hand, enjoying something warm and nourishing. After weeks of skipping meals or forcing myself to eat something small, today felt different. I was finally going to sit down, eat, and enjoy it. It was a small victory, something that felt like I could finally be kind to myself.

But then, just as I was getting everything ready, someone came into the kitchen. They didn’t do anything wrong—everyone deserves to eat too—but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling that hit me. It’s strange, really. I don’t have a problem with people eating around me in general, but today it just felt different. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t eat with them there, not when everything in me was screaming to be left alone.

I didn’t want to make a scene, so I quietly put everything back. I grabbed my coffee, turned, and left the kitchen without a word. They didn’t say anything either, but I saw the look in their eyes. Hurt, confusion, maybe even a little disappointment. And that’s what hit me the hardest—the fact that I had made them feel something, even though I didn’t mean to.

I feel horrible for walking out like that, but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat in front of someone. It’s something I’ve never been able to do, even when I want to. There’s a part of me that wishes it were easier, that I could just sit down and enjoy food with someone, without feeling this wave of anxiety or discomfort.

But it’s not. And that’s the hardest part. It’s not just about food—it’s about feeling exposed, vulnerable, like I’m not allowed to have this moment of self-care, or like my own needs are somehow secondary to everyone else’s.

I don’t know if they understand why I left, but I hope they do one day. I hope they know it wasn’t about them. It’s just me, trying to figure out how to feel comfortable with something that should be so simple. But maybe that’s what makes it hard—knowing that something so basic can feel so impossible sometimes.

I just wish it could be different.