Breakfast Ritual

Having breakfast has become a weird but holy ritual to me since college, much like a sanctuary sheltering me from the unyielding pursuit of the city, the immense pressure of self-expectations, and the anxiety of unexpectancy. Strangely enough, I never found breakfast enjoyable when I was a kid, as I was usually woken up by my dad asking me to get breakfast together. As I got older, I started skipping breakfast, probably because I couldn’t find the time and energy to do it. But I seem to get it now, the subtle act of putting down some time, enjoying every chew and bite in the morning without hassle, is where one’s mind finds peace in this hectic place. This counterintuitive gesture is a silent protest against reducing people into mindless dull gears, optimised for economic output, for this world owes us nothing, and we owe nothing to this world.