A garbage sandwich, I think, is what most of us become after life has had a few turns with us.
A little disappointment layered between our forced smiles and there’s burnt dreams tucked beneath the “I’m okay,” we often say. Exhaustion spreads evenly like mayonnaise yet, every morning, we manage to fold ourselves together, serving ourselves to the world pretending we taste fine.
The funny thing is, some people are better at packaging their garbage sandwich than others. One person adds aesthetics, another adds motivational quotes, the next one hides theirs behind luxury, filtered selfies, or mirth in crowded rooms. But deep down, everybody is carrying something unpleasant between the slices.
I think adulthood especially is realizing nobody really has it together. Some people are just chewing through life more quietly than others. Now, despite everything, we remain strangely resilient. Because tell me why life can hand someone betrayal, debt, heartbreak, anxiety, family problems, exhaustion, and one failed talking stage on the side but they still wake up the next morning seeking an outfit to wear? That’s cinema and survival and the garbage sandwich.
Perhaps, healing isn’t pretending the sandwich tastes good but learning how to remove the things poisoning you, one layer at a time. Less self-hate, less pretending, less carrying what was never yours and less of swallowing pain just because you were taught to endure it.
I’m a firm believer that one day, after enough careful rebuilding, life stops tasting like survival and starts tasting like something cotton candy. Something nourishing. Until then, we chew. Lol.
My response to the freewriters daily prompt