The Sandwich Knows More Than You Do
Why your craving for toast is more honest than your therapist.
You think you’re lost.
You’re not.
You’re just listening for something real.
But real doesn’t come with certainty. It comes quietly — like a blink, a twitch, a craving for a sandwich.
Desire, that’s what we’re talking about.
Not grand visions. Not life purpose. Not your five-year plan.
Just the flicker. The nudge. The “what if I…”
And maybe that sounds small. But it’s not.
It’s sacred.
Because here’s what no one tells you:
The body doesn’t lie. The radar is always on.
Not the radar of right and wrong. Not the one scanning for success or failure.
The other one.
The one tuned to you.
And sure — people (and their voices echoing inside of you) will try to fix you.
With systems. With goals. With progress trackers.
They’ll say: “Follow this path.” “Trust the science.” “Be consistent.”
But that’s not presence. That’s bureaucracy.
You don’t need a plan.
You need to listen.
Even — especially — when what you hear is messy. Misdirected. Monstrous.
“I want to disappear.”
“I want to feel chaos.”
“I want to be touched.”
These aren’t problems to solve.
They’re signals.
All worth hearing. All part of the frequency.
Because once you start judging the radar, you stop hearing it.
And then you’re back in someone else’s story.
So here’s the experiment:
No labels. No systems. No standards.
Just… what do I want right now?
Not forever. Just now.
Even if it’s just a sandwich.
Especially if it’s just a sandwich.
That’s not indulgence.
That’s recalibration.
And yes — it will look like nothing is happening.
No metrics. No milestones. No performance.
But underneath?
A slow reweaving. A return. A remembering.
Because coherence isn’t something you build.
It’s something you uncover — when you stop pretending you’re broken.
Performaturity (n.)
A stylized version of growth, built on discipline and approval rather than truth.
“They had the language of healing, but it was all performaturity.”
Fixloop (n.)
A repeating cycle of self-repair that reinforces the idea that something is always broken.
“He thought he was improving, but it was just another fixloop.”
Coreshiver (n.)
The subtle internal tremor that signals something is deeply true — even if it threatens your current identity.
“She didn’t want to admit it, but the coreshiver had already spoken.”
If this hit home — write me. I’m listening.