I was never much of a baker, or cooker for that matter. It was only maybe the last semester, or two, of my university life that there is more to food than whatever is in that KD Box. Sure, I tried to spice things up with some extra ingredients here or there, but it is nothing to what I’m doing right now. 

Lumpias (spring rolls) are folded to perfection, and dough is rising to the perfect peak. I’m actually enjoying baking, but not for the food. I rarely finish the loaves of banana bread and carrot cakes I’ve made over the last few days, and I do them late at night, around midnight every single time. 

The whirs and kneads of doughs and ingredients are the only noises that I can take in order to ignore the sounds of the negatives words in my head. I can grate as hard as I can in order to chew out all of the frustration.

Watching the food rise and come together is my favorite. it is silent, and the smell of relaxation lingers.