The antiquated pouring of tea is a British custom that comes with the delusion that a simple hot drink will immediately cure all ailments and troubles. The expected freedom from turmoil is always countered with the offering of yet another digestive biscuit.
The design and repetition of such an act affords the pourer the ability to hide from their emotions, and for the drinker the denial of any form of understanding. The veil of compassion only lasts until the very last drop of tea is drunk, and then the cracks of the forced smiles begin to show.
Tired of platitudes and weak gestured hand touching, I resided myself to the fact that my mental anguish would never be understood by my closet allies. The screams inside my soul resonated only with myself.
The irony of their compassion was quantified to the quality of biscuit on offer. It was just another pointless conversation that discussed everything else but my mental health. Avoidance is such an antiquated British custom, but it is not suited to the fragility of our precious minds.
This period of calm drinking tea is just an illusion that is carefully created for the appearance of normality.