Did you guys know that packets of ramen are only twenty five cents? So I bought a whole mess of them and organized my thoughts about each one in a series of letters. I used Maruchan brand and cooked each one to the exact specifications on the bag without adding extra veggies or peppers or a hardboiled egg like I wanted to.

Dear chicken and beef flavors,
I put you together because you both occupy the same space in my life. I’m assuming you were every white person’s first introduction to ramen. You were mine, at least. You warmed my belly on camping trips, I will forever be grateful. You taste like familiarity and comfort. I could lay my head on your noodley lap because you have not changed at all. But I have. I am ready to experience different and new and exciting little packets of flavor. We may see each other from time to time but I’m moving on.

Dear pork flavor,
Well, you smell like pork. You don’t taste like much, but you smell like pork. Considering how much smell and taste are linked, it’s kind of astounding how much you can smell like pork but only barely taste like it. Of all these flavors I had the highest hopes for you and you let me down with your lies. Here’s the kicker, though: I’m not mad and I don’t really blame you. You’re not completely different than you advertise yourself as. You’re just not what you think you are and you try so hard to be that thing. It’s actually kind of sad, pork flavor. I feel bad for you. Sure, you lied to me but it’s not your fault. You lie to yourself more than you lie to anyone else.

Dear oriental flavor,
Just a hot mess. What are you even trying to be? You taste like vagueness. Against my better judgement, I gave you a chance. I don’t know what I expected oriental flavor, but it wasn’t that. Also, your name makes me uncomfortable.

Dear roast chicken flavor,
I see you roast chicken flavor, bougie mother fucker. You ain’t just chicken, you roast chicken. Honestly, you’re actually pretty good. Problem is, roast chicken, you know it. It doesn’t matter how much effort someone could put into you to make you as delicious as possible. You will never need anyone the way that people would need you. You’re the type of flavor that people will like because of your confidence, until they don’t like you because of your arrogance.

Dear chili flavor,
Oh. My. Goodness. I never knew it could be so good. The thing I like most about you, chili flavor, is that you have the courage to be spicy. You have follow through and convictions. We’ve all been lied to in the past, but when you tell me you’re chili flavored, you mean it, you really do. I’m scared, though. Scared that I’ll over do it, scared that I’ll eat bowl after bowl of you until I get sick of it. You’re almost too good, and that might be our downfall. The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long. But I have hope that you’ll continue to be just as good to me months from now that you are in this moment, and hope is the only thing I can have right now. Hope, and inexpensive noodles.

Meals had: 6
Money spent: $1.50
Sodium consumed: 4,910 mg