A bowl of comfort that actually feels like comfort. Creamy broth, tender potatoes, savory sausage, crispy bacon, and greens melting into everything. Rich without being heavy, hearty without trying too hard.

You carry things you never asked for. You don’t talk about them much, not because they don’t matter, but because explaining would take more energy than you have. People see the outside. They don’t see the constant weight, the quiet numbness, the way hope feels distant instead of comforting.

Surviving is winning