You can make me feel so warm. Like I’m where I belong. I had my space and fuck I fit there perfectly. But I think I’m lost. I’ve been lost this whole time. It’s so sad when you finally step outside yourself for a moment and think: “wow. I did it. I found what I was looking for. I built what I had dreamed of. I’m not sad anymore. They were right… it doesn’t last forever. I made it.” only to find out that it was just a dream. I woke up. I’m back in my body. I used to look at “her” like she was someone else. She was a kid, she was young, she was mentally ill, she wasn’t loved enough. I’m her. She’s me. And we deserve this.
I really fucking loved you. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you deserve. I love you. Fuck you.
“What is jam? What makes something authentically jam? Can bacon really be made into jam?
It was all very Existentialist.
The answer to those questions is a bit complicated and non-definitive. The U.S. FDA has defined jam and jelly in very specific and mathematical terms (such-and-such percentage of juice to fruit to water to sugar = jam/jelly); it also uses jam and preserve interchangeably, for the most part. While interesting, the FDA’s definitions did not matter much to me because the FDA wasn’t really using the terms in the way that we usually use the terms. Also, the FDA wasn’t comprehensive in its definitions. It didn’t tackle other fruit spreads like marmalades or curds, for instance.
The more I looked into, the more I thought, dude, this information would make a good infographic.”
