SAD BOY SNACK CLUB

An old book fell open to a page with a pressed flower, and I felt it. The weight of everything. The rain on the window, the dust on the shelves, the silence of a forgotten afternoon. This site is for those moments. It's an homage to the sad boy, the one guy who feels it all too much, and the snacks that get him through it.

A Collection of Solitary Moments

The kettle has whistled. The tea is ready. But what is there left to do but watch the steam rise? It feels like all the moments I’ve been waiting for have already passed, leaving behind a silence that hangs in the air, thick and sweet with what-ifs.

All the books I've read, all the stories I've known. I've been a ghost in a thousand lives, but never the hero of my own.

The rain on the windowpane is a rhythm I know by heart. Each drop a small, fleeting thought, a testament to the fact that some things just fall, and you can do nothing but watch.

Sad Boys of History

For when the weight of the past feels a little too heavy.

Edgar Allan Poe

They say a man's life is but a fleeting shadow. Mine, I'm afraid, was a series of dimly lit corridors. I lost my mothers, my love, and my own mind to the ravenous maw of grief. The world is full of ghosts, you see—they whisper from the rafters and laugh from the shadows. There are days when the only comfort is the profound bitterness of a piece of Raven's Reserve Dark Chocolate, a taste as heavy and as final as a funeral bell. Nevermore.

Lord Byron

My life was a great, sweeping tragedy, or perhaps a farce. I loved too much and too little, and the world saw a rake and a dandy when I was just a poet with a bruised soul. They called me "mad, bad, and dangerous to know," and I suppose they weren't entirely wrong. It's a tiresome thing, to be so perpetually misunderstood. My life is a Cherry Tartlet—flaky and sweet on the surface, but with a deeply bitter filling.

Abraham Lincoln

My mind, it seems, has always had a certain bend toward melancholy. Folks see the jokes, the plain-spoken man, but there's a deep river of sadness running through me that nothing seems to stem. I’ve seen such sorrow and borne such burdens, it feels as if the weight of the whole country is settled on my shoulders. Sometimes, the only thing that feels right is a simple, unadorned Hardtack Cracker—hard to chew, and harder to swallow.

Sad Boys of Fiction

For when the real world feels a little too fake.

Hamlet

The world is a mess. It's rotten to its core, and I'm the one who has to set it right. But how? My own thoughts, they're a battlefield. To act, or not to act? That is the question, and the answer never seems to come. While everyone else rushes forward, I sit here, contemplating. It’s as if my life is a Danish of Despair—all flaky promise, but the filling is a confusing, pointless mess.

Holden Caulfield

I swear to God, the world is full of phonies. It just is. All these people, running around, pretending they're not full of it. I can't take it anymore, the whole damn thing. I just want to run away and live in a cabin and never see anyone again. I'm so lonesome, and the only thing I've got is this box of stale crackers and a glass of milk. It’s not much, but at least it’s real.

Jay Gatsby

My parties were the stuff of legend, you know. Everyone came. I hoped she would. I threw all that money and splendor at the world, but it was all just for one person. All that laughter, all the music, it was for her. I stand on my lawn, under the stars, watching that green light across the water, and I feel so completely alone. All the untouched éclairs in the world couldn't fill the hollow space she left behind.

Eating Our Feelings

Snacks are not just food. They are quiet acts of self-care. They are the small comforts we bring into our lives when the world feels too big and too loud. A simple bag of chips can be a shield against a thousand anxieties.

Snacks for the Journey

("Are snacks allowed on planes?" & "Can snacks go through TSA?")
Every journey is a miniature exile. The airport, a liminal space of hurried goodbyes and silent apprehension. The world demands you leave your past behind, but it is in these moments that a small bag of your favorite treats becomes more than just sustenance. It's a fragment of home, a tangible comfort carried across security checkpoints, a silent promise that some things, at least, can come with you.

A Philosophical Question

("Are snacks healthy?")
The world is obsessed with "health," but what does that mean for the sad boy? Is a snack healthy if it mends a broken heart? If it fills a silent room with the sound of a rustling bag? If it helps you get through another evening alone? The kind of nourishment we need isn't always found in a nutrition label. Sometimes, a handful of chips is all you need to feel whole again.

A Photograph of Nothing and Everything

A lonely figure standing on a beach with a distant horizon

Sometimes the most profound statements are found in the quiet moments between breaths.

A Collection of Solitary Thoughts

the static on the radio

a symphony for one.

the last street light flickers,

a final, tired sun.

i trace the cracks on concrete,

a map of where i've been.

and wonder if the ghosts

are laughing at the scene.

the silence is a heavy blanket,

weighted with unspoken words.

i am a ship without a compass,

lost on a sea of blurred.

the clock hands move like strangers,

not knowing where to land.

and my own shadow is too tall

to hold me by the hand.

the coffee cup is cold and empty,

just like this vacant chair.

the world outside is moving fast,

but I don't seem to care.

i'll just sit here for a while,

and watch the dust motes fall,

until the sun forgets to rise

and darkness takes it all.