I know that you're sleeping, but I want you to read this when you wake up, a most extraordinary thing happened. I can taste things again, I never thought something so standard could be so inspiring and amazing, I treated myself to a lemon salmon burger, one of the Publix specials, it was picture-perfect, you should have seen it, you should have tasted it with your taste buds, I would have cooked you one as well, I would have been delighted to do that. I put a dab of olive oil in the well-loved pan and baked it rather high on 400 because I wanted to burn the crust a little, I know that's weird, but I like it a little burned...the extra lemon pepper and Kerrygold Irish butter were plentiful, I wanted it to swim in a sea of its own juices and creamy butter, it turned out to be more pristine than I could fathom, the crust was immaculate and chewy, lightly burned just like I wanted it to be, the outer crust circling a sad orange and bruising lemon hue, it was shiny and creamy, cooked perfectly, the salmon chunks inside waiting to be devoured, the butter melted into it, the salmon chunks looked like they were bathing in a strange buttery lava, I felt good for the first time in what seems like months, I didn't think about what I've lost and how bad my heart hurts, and how rotten I feel, who knew a salmon burger could wield such power, it was delicious, life can be delicious, we can get over this depression, this loneliness and this endless, unbearable grief, we can, we just have to try harder and appreciate the little things that make us happy.
It's not about salmon, It's not about that at all, I can't cook for you, and you can't eat, I am not writing about salmon, I wish that I was, I wish that I could cook for you, because I would, and I don't cook for just anyone, I made my dog one, he deserves the best for being loyal, people can be snakes, a dog cannot. Most people don't even know that I can cook, such wonders and such delights I've hidden from everyone, some words are harder to pen than others, and it's likewise for loving people, it has always been like madness for me, my cold blood, people kissing my sickly hand, I don't understand it and I don't understand me, all my heart does is fight and I create misunderstood masterpieces.