I eat everything. Almost. Not really.

Are you a picky eater? Share some of your favorite food quirks with us (the more exotic, the better!). Omnivores: what’s the one thing you won’t eat?  http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/mouths-wide-shut/ 


Most people I know hate cucumber, but I’d eat that stuff everyday for the rest of my life. Same goes for a number of leafy vegetables and a few funny fruits that surely only grow in my country (I can’t mention them because I don’t know what they’re called in English). In short, I eat a few things that wouldn’t be many people’s first option. Because of this, lots of people who know me think I eat everything.

If only they knew.

My name is Lydia and I’m a picky eater.

There was even a time in my life, quite recently, when I’d dread meal time. Of course I wanted to eat ’cause who doesn’t? The problem came in later, however, with the effects. The food we eat here generally includes a staple food (usually a very heavy carbohydrate) and a sauce/soup (usually protein food like fish, meat and legumes). Now those heavy carbs……those were mostly the issue (and they still are, sometimes). For some reason, my digestive system wasn’t in the mood for any hard work. I was relieved to know it was a disorder, but that’s where the relief ended. No doctor could conjure up enough “doctor-ly powers” to diagnose this thing and do something about it. I was tired of stomachache. Tired of feeling bloated all the time. Tired of not enjoying food because I was worried about how I’d feel after eating. Tired of my stomach itself.

I stopped (at least willingly) eating most of the food available to me. Some of this behavior still exists, but I’m gradually becoming less picky. I’d only be happy eating fruits and vegetables and drinking tea. Goodness, I love tea. Tea, besides being the best beverage ever, enabled me to take as much ginger, lemon grass and cinnamon as possible, and those helped to calm down my stomach (while tasting great too).

So I don’t eat everything, or even go anywhere near that. But I’m getting better. And I’m just glad I’m able to eat normally. Not everyone gets to eat food that’s not pumped into your system through a web of tubes.

Everything else aside, I just won’t eat fish. It doesn’t even give me any problems. I just hate it.

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And time will pass

From a time in my life when I was afraid I’d waste so much time;

And time, as it always does, will pass. Days will still go by. They may have no life in them, no excitement, nothing to look forward to, and no passion; but they will not linger. They will go by. They will not remember that I lived in desperation, begging them to come with something more; to bring some jump to my soul; to be bright and full of colourful bubbles. They will quickly forget that I sat by and waited for life itself to grant me the things I should have worked for and hand me prizes for things I’d made the mistake of giving up on. They will sneer at the fact that I watched other people thrive instead of survive, that I celebrated when other people achieved their dreams while I passively pondered upon mine. And they will not sneer for long, for they don’t dwell on things not done but on things that are done, because something is greater than nothing.

They will sigh a little, not from annoyance, but from disappointment because I wasted their time. In twenty four hours, a single day, others will have dreamt a thousand dreams and made a thousand realities, while I just sat and looked on. And the days will feel betrayed and hollow for I threw them away like the kind of smelly garbage everyone’s always eager to get rid of. They will not even bother to look back because they’ll not think me worthy of craning their necks so hard. So they’ll give up and move on, they’ll have given me their chance. It comes once. A day, two, three, three hundred. They’ll never return for a second round. And they’ll be gone, and I’ll be here, having had a feast in front of me from which I refused to eat.

Maybe one day, the days will come back and I can ask them for forgiveness. I can tell them of all the new plans I’ve come up with and how it can all be worked out. We can plan new things together, have new visions and dream new dreams. We can rewind to those wasted days and fill them with passion and action and love; we can make them worthwhile. I feel the jitters now; they’re butterflies in my gut; we are going to re-write history! This is hope!

That was hope. There’s this thing called logic, though. Guess what logic tells me. Days indeed never return. So I’ll just never get back my wasted time.