There’s a lot of things. But then, there are three cakes. Each one baked with love, sprinkled with a bit of surprise. One cake brings trouble, while the other two offer a sweet realization. But love lingered still. Chocolate and hazelnut. Creamy and cold. Dense and rich. It’s been a while since I let myself enjoy something so good, something that felt like a small luxury. I used to think it was too much, a little too extravagant for no reason. In a way, it still is. There’s something about it that feels a little over the top, a little more than I need. And you don’t need that. I don’t need that. But the problem is, I only really understood it once it became clear, once it solidified in front of me. I hate that. I hate that it takes these things, these small luxuries, to bring out something I didn’t want to feel. I don’t want it to come from this, from something as simple as a cake. But it did, and now it’s there.
Apparently it has no meaning. Apparently, it’s trash. Apparently, no one believes in it. This has turned into a diary, one that feels more like scattered thoughts than something worth keeping. I’m starting to think I might abandon it, the same way I’ve abandoned my other diaries. Maybe it’s weakness, or maybe I’m just tired. Vulnerability with bad writing feels like a dangerous mix right now, like I’m exposing too much without enough to say. It’s strange how something can feel so heavy yet be so meaningless. I can’t let myself hold on to something that doesn’t seem to matter. It’s like pouring feelings into a blank page, but when you step back, you realize there’s nothing really there—just words that don’t connect, ideas that fall flat. I can’t let this much be attached to so little. But for now, I’ll leave it here, unsure, like everything else.