Life has given me a few cookies during my journey through this mess. I could barely taste them, though - life has also taken them away from me, and before I could even breathe, grab a glass of milk, sit on a comfortable couch and enjoy that marvelous cookie while watching my favourite TV serie - that’s the only decent way to enjoy a cookie. I would never understand. The thought of getting such a precious cookie just to have it taken away from me never really made any sense in my head. As a result, I would always get mad, depressed and, well, hungry, each time hungrier - after all, I wasn’t able to eat it. How could I ever be satisfied? (Don’t be dirty minded, I didn’t mean what you may think I meant, okay?)
The thought of having and losing that cookie without even tasting it would torment me in a daily basis. I would naturally start to obsess over that cookie, always wondering what would it taste like, and always assuming that cookie could have been the best cookie I would ever get the chance to eat in my entire life. Maybe if I tried to get it back… Maybe, if I fought for it, I could make life let me have it again… Maybe.
It was on: I would convince life to return me that cookie. I wouldn’t mind if it was only a bite or the entire cookie - I just wanted to taste it. I needed to taste it. I would never stop to obsess over that cookie if I never knew what did it taste like. How could I ever move on? How could I ever know if that was or was not the best cookie I would have in life? One bite. One single bite. Was that too much to ask? I didn’t seem to me, but, apparently, yes.
After tormenting myself some more and being unsuccessful on my quest to have that cookie back on my hands, I would be devastated. Once again, there I was - hungry, without any cookies, and way too depressed to look for anything else to eat. Sometimes I would even try and have a look around the house, but I could never find something that could replace that cookie - nothing would ever be as good as that cookie seemed to be. I was convinced that only that cookie could satisfy my hunger. I wanted that one cookie I couldn’t have… and suddenly I would start to think of all those cookies I wasn’t able to have and ask myself why couldn’t I ever be left in peace to properly enjoy a cookie. Didn’t I deserve it?
As offering me a cookie and taking it away without letting me have a taste of it wasn’t enough, life, after denying my request for having it back, would take it further and make things even worse - it would take that same cookie I wanted so bad and give it to someone else. Not only I was forced to accept that the cookie was gone, but I would also be forced to watch that person enjoying that cookie in a way I was never able to and pretend to be okay with it. And even thought I never really had the chance to taste it myself, the happiness of this person would confirm, in a way, what I had always suspected: that cookie was, in fact, especial. Knowing that, and realizing that cookie couldn’t be mine anymore, would take me to the bottom, from where I wouldn’t leave unless and until life would offer me another cookie. “It will be different this time, take it!”, I would think.
Do I need to say it was never different? Not too long ago, another cookie was taken away from me, and is already on somebody else’s hands. So, here I am, once again, without certainty or cookies. I can’t tell I hit the bottom this time, though - I feel strangely indifferent about it. I’m tired of waiting for cookies! It took me a while, but I have realized that my favourite tv serie is still on, I still got a glass of milk on my hand and there’s a nice and comfortable couch right next to me - why can’t I try to enjoy it without the cookie? That’s exactly what I did. I have missed enough of the tv serie fighting over those cookies. Here, all comfy in my couch, and with a warm and tasty glass of milk on my hands, its absence doesn’t really make that much of a difference. Maybe I wasn’t really hungry after all.