I finally made a PB&J in the ECV dining hall! Up to this point, a sign reading "When getting peanut butter, PLEASE spread on a plate rather than on bread. Thank you" had been a powerful, and anxiety inducing, deterrent. I was worried I would forget and the peanut butter applier would contact bread and countless people would die of an allergic reaction; I was worried that I would not get enough peanut butter and have the horrible bother of having to get more; I was even more worried of  getting too much peanut butter, or jelly for that matter, and having to feel the judgment of people who would mock me for not knowing how much is enough and see my excessive food filling as a disturbing affront to those less able to obtain sustenance.

Simply, I made peanut butter something that, for me, no longer could exist since it hurt too much to consider.

But today I risked the anxiety, bother, and potential judgment for that most nostalgic of sandwiches. I got enough peanut butter and jelly for three sandwiches, and it didn't matter. Maybe it never did. Now on to bigger and more significant things, like talking to professors outside of class or not hating people who walk faster than me on the sidewalk and pass me. Maybe.