where is this sun you speak of?

You secretly cry in the middle of the night trying not to let everyone know that you are hurting inside. All the wide smiles, contagious laughs, and the jokes you randomly say seem to wash the thorns away. Every day, you compose yourself before going to work. In the parking lot where you sit and cry - then goes inside to do needlework. How do you let someone go, you ask? How would I know better if I have never done the same? Every day you wake, tears seem to lessen. You told me that maybe that is how you measure how much you have moved on... Maybe you are right.  Let me measure mine. *Inspired by my roommates life stories. Does not reflect my personal life.

Homemade salad -- a semi-regular lunch at work I did not do any creative ways to avoid the food -- or part of a recipe -- that I hated when I was a kid. I had my freedom of choice which is probably the reason of my lack of creativity with regards to this. Maybe I am lucky enough that my mother and father nor anyone in the family forced me to eat something nasty -- like vegetables. As far as I can remember, I just put those nasty things (aka too healthy things!) on the side and continue my journey to eating and be glad about it. Every one would ask me why I'm not eating the okra or tomatoes or onions or eggplant or the black meat of a tuna and I would instantly say graciously the reason why -- it's because it does not feel good in my mouth. And they would say, it's healthy and blah blah blah . I did not have to struggle from eating something I don't like. I was not the kind of kid who would whine about the same food. My family would give me food and I would eat it...