I ate a carrot for breakfast.
I know... what a declaration.
But a year ago, the crunch wouldn’t have come from chewing the carrot,
Rather from those eyes looking,
Those minds judging.
My biggest fear—
Not being good enough.

I ate a carrot for breakfast.
A truly liberating experience.
Who cares?
I like it.
I want it.
You do your thing.

Tell that to a French person,
And they’d reconsider being in your vicinity.

But now things are different.
This morning,
With my morning carrot,
I no longer fear being weird,
Or different—
For eating a carrot,
Or for doing anything, really.

I won’t judge you for eating garlic for breakfast—
Not that I’ve done that, not at all—
But, you know,
In theory,
Hypothetically,
If you did, I’d be curious.

But you can sit there with your garlic,
While I’m munching on my carrot.
In peace.
No conflict.
And that’s about as much as I want from you.