For this recipe, the clumsier and more inexperienced the makers, the better:
Take:
- 3 cups of joy
- 2 cups of emotional sensitivity
- 1 cup of vanity
Sift it through:
- competitiveness
- an inability to take up space
- superficiality
Let it sit for five to ten years.
Now add:
- 1 tablespoon of creativity [ this should sizzle and feed the existing yeast ]
- 2 teaspoons of self-righteousness
- 1 teaspoon of anxiety
Leave the dough in a dark environment, to fester with no sunlight.
Optional:
- angsty hormonal teenagers
- angry gossiping
- a few classrooms in need of a scapegoat
A couple of years, start kneading it. Let the dough sweat and cry out. You should pummel before you leave it to rise. It will lose its misshapen beaten up look.
Now, handle it with care and place it somewhere warm, preferably on a leafy balcony overlooking the sea. Pour love and music in, and a few drops of wordy litter.
Next. Put it in a parcel and send it all over the world.
recipe for disaster (with some light shining on through)
4-13 cups of emotional abuse,
1 cup of holding it all in,
1 and 1/2 cups of letting it go and having some of the best friendships around,
15 cups of moving (constant constant constant moving),
about 6 tablespoons or so of insanity (or, at the very least, being told as much and feeling so),
3-4 heaping cups (or pounds) of love for twenty one pilots
a pinch of empathy and compassion (only a pinch; it spreads so fast that you might sour),
2 pinches of love for others,
a handful of not feeling deserving of others’ love,
3-7 teaspoons of depression,
3-7 teaspoons of anxiety,
and maybe about 9 or 10 teaspoons of some PTSD, if you’ve got some (storebought does just as well as all-natural)
and i suppose there might be some better qualities, but i’m failing to think of any that i really, truly, deserve to have in this recipe of myself as of this moment.
sift and mix the dry ingredients (moving, insanity, love, empathy and compassion, and not feeling deserving of others’ love) in a large bowl, making sure to be generously rough with each stir.
once thoroughly mixed, pour in the emotional abuse as you see fit and then throw in the holding it all in, fully wrapped (this is to make sure it is honestly ‘held all in’).
you may have to melt it on high for a few days and rest your arms from the heavy and rough stirring before returning to the recipe. this is fine. let it sit for some time and do not fret or wonder if it feels the suicidal tendencies, yet.
once the mix looks a bit radioactive, it’s time to add in the anxiety, depression, and then the PTSD - in that order.
follow up with a week or so in the freezer before pulling it out to thaw an hour.
this is the best part, i swear.
please pour the love for twenty one pilots right on top. this should soak in, and may need a few minutes to settle. no need to stir.
to make sure the love for twenty one pilots is soaked up, the mixture may look a little brighter. healthier, one might say.
afterwards, pour in, very slowly, the letting it go and having some of the best friendships around, making sure to stir quickly as it softens the harder mixture.
if it turns all sorts of colors and looks really happy, you know you’ve done well.
cook for about a month at 400 degrees.
then, pull it out, very carefully.
smash it to bits with a hammer, and maybe pour some glue on, for a glaze.
serve cold, with a side of a hefty dental bill.
Honey
Two pounds of bitter chocolate. No sugar. Throw in a fistful of chilli powder. Mix well. Serve hot.
But wait! Something’s miraculously appeared in this recipe out of nowhere. A few drops of honey struggling to rise to the top of this unpalatable mixture.
May they spread their sweetness through this dish…….
My Life Lesson Recipe.
The ingredients in this recipe contain the lessons I am hopeful to learn from in my lifetime. These qualities have been brewing for 47 years now. Please see the replacements that can be used in this lesson.
*In a soul, collect the empathy. If empathy isn't found please use patience.
*Mix a good amount of fear of conflict. If there is no conflict, you can add confrontation.
*Stir in quite a bit of foolish naive behavior and believing lies. Instead of foolishness you can replace with overthinking or using, however if you choose to use--please note there may be a bitter after taste.
*Add a mindful amount of giving second chances over and over again. If the second chances aren't available than you could throw in a door mat.
*Add in a hint of guilt. The heaviest guilt is best suited for this recipe. If needed, you could add some self-loathing.
After mixing all ingredients together you can finish by garnishing with acceptance, thoughtfullness and tenderheartedness.
if it were quantifiable,
perhaps, it could be said as such:
2 cups of experience
a tablespoon of knowledge (or will a teaspoon suffice)
1/3 cup of amusement
2 tablespoons of reality
a sprinkling of mundaneness (to soften the blow of)
3 cups of friendship
1/2 cup of mystique
4 tablespoons of time spent dreaming
and mayhaps, the most essential of all,
5 cups of naivety
for all that we do not know
is a thousand chances for all that could be
if it can be thought as much.
So Nice (Taste it Twice)
This recipe calls for:
-6 cups of anxious coping mechanisms
-2 1/2 cups of meme references
-3 tablespoons of forced laughter
-1 tablespoon of wrathful hatred
-1/4 tablespoon of pure spite
-2 teaspoons of the benefit (must be extracted from the doubt)
-1/2 teaspoon of genuine giggles
-1 pinch of unfiltered joy
Preheat blanket for 4 hours with depression nap.
If you can, leave bed and mix all ingredients in a bowl. Notice that you added too much or not enough of one of the ingredients. Begin crying.
Allow tears to mix with the dry ingredients and stir slowly. Gradually stir faster and more aggressively when you remember Election Week.
At this point, a bit of snot should be getting in the bowl as well. This is good! To make sure the tears and snot come down consistently, think about how white liberals just began to care about the systematic lynching of black people only to abandon the movement after electing our first ever black female cop into office.
When it’s reached an even consistency, slowly pour the contents over the overdue assignments that your professors didn’t give you extensions for despite the literal pandemic.
Stare at the mess you’ve created. Your best bet is to abandon ship and go get a cake from that little store you like to cheer yourself up. Too bad being outside is illegal right now.
Crawl back into bed. The blanket should still be warm if preheated properly.
Sleep.
A fitting Asian dish
Wash a young bitter gourd with care and slice it using a scintillatingly-sharp knife. Watch how impeccably thin slivers were procured, listen to the malicious thuds as the metal cut through the vulnerable fruit. Then, immerse them in a bowl of warm saltwater. Let the solution suck the moisture out of the crescent-shaped slices, let them struggle to maintain their turgidity, let them give in into the torturous environment. Saute dice of onion and garlic till aureate-bronze. Add in a mashed salted egg followed by the now-brittle slices. Fry the ingredients together, hear the constant sizzle and smell the idiosyncratic aroma pervading the space. It was supposed to be bitter, but it wasn't. The fragrance was instead an indecipherable mixture of dark chocolate, caramel, pickled cucumber....... let your imagination run wild because my life is undescribable, unpredictable and lastly, fickle. I can't say it is bitter, salty, sweet or sour, it is not an intermediate either; it has no fixed definition.