For as long as you can remember,
You have loved to bake.
Cookies, cakes, pies, you name it.
All of it delights you to no end.
You’ve spent hours poring over cookbooks,
Days crafting the most magnificent of concoctions,
And endless trips to the grocery store,
Stocking up on every little thing you could ever possibly need
To bake the perfect treats.
Everyone who’s ever tried your creations
Has loved it. Hands down.
You were amazing at it.
One of the best, you could say.
And there was not a soul who could hold a candle
To the passion filling your desserts.
It was pretty set in stone
What you were going to do with your life,
For you had but one purpose –
One interest, one talent
– and that was to bake.
So many people had gone on to become bakers,
Professionals in their craft,
And yet you were sure that you would best them all.
Because this was your calling,
And you were just better.
But when the time came
To rise to bake stardom,
You were instead pushed to cook.
You must cook
Because cooking is sustainable
And baking is not.
“You cannot live off of sweets,” they say.
“You must have sustenance.”
There is no protein in buttercream.
There is no vitamin C in cookie dough.
What you do is simply not enough.
So you are thrust into a cook’s world.
And the ingredients are endlessly boring.
And the recipes are too complex.
But everyone else is doing it,
And they are doing such a good job.
So you must do it too.
Because the world only needs cooks,
Not bakers.
And you try, oh how you try.
But you’re always missing key spices,
And cutting your fingers instead of your veggies,
And overcooking the raw meats.
And your dishes are never good, not like your treats were –
You never hit the mark.
“Still,” they say,
“You must be a cook, if only subpar
Because there is no use for a baker.
That is no way to make a living.
It will not secure your future.
And so if you cannot cook, then
You are worthless.”
Your baking means nothing.
Not here.
Not now.
Not when cooking is the only thing that is valued.
You have realized that it does not matter
How astronomically wondrous of a baker you are
Because you cannot cook
And that is all that matters,
So therefore you don’t.
Oh well.
You don’t even have time to bake anymore anyways.
You spend all your time and energy on cooking lessons
To no avail, might I add, you will never be great at it.
And so the recipes you once pored over,
And the confections you’d baked your very heart into
Have now been left to rot.