Kat Suricata @KatSuricata@deadinsi.de

i am sick of dealing with my own emotions, i’m sick of dealing with others’ emotions, i’m sick of being sick and of being in more pain on a daily basis than some people ever experience in their lives. i hate it. i hate not knowing whether or not i even have a hope of survival. there is genuine trauma to be found in uncertainty.

all i want is to be okay. or even to know whether or not i’ll be okay at all. i HATE this, so much.

i hate the fact that there is NOTHING i can fucking do.

i never used to understand why people in awful situations would be upset by being told how brave they are, because it came from such a lovely place, but i get it now. it makes me want to scream sometimes.

i am not *brave,* i am *terrified.* i have panic attacks every day and crippling waves of helplessness every time i think about my situation slightly too long. i am all but confined to bedrest, the single most soul-crushing thing in existence.

every time i hear “you’re so brave”, all i can hear at this point is “congratulations on not killing yourself, somehow”. i know where it comes from, and i appreciate it—i do—but it feels mocking, sometimes.

i know this is such an obvious statement it borders on the tautological, but: fuck, dude. being terminally ill *sucks.* >_<

finished a ranked list of my favorite Pokémon of all time. only final evolutions, no form differences, only my favorite-favorites (there are a lot of Pokémon i love not listed here, but this is the “choose any six of these at random and it’s a fantastic team for me” list). i didn't realize that “no form differences” would also exclude Alolan forms from showing up, which bums me out a bit, but making this already took too much time and i can’t fix that without starting over again. just pretend Alolan Ninetales and Alolan Muk are present and very high up.

It is proven! I am katsuricata on Keybase: https://keybase.io/katsuricata/sigchain#ea553bc92bb49468ec69e9987a1c1b473cab9936513ed46f47400fc143c1da6d0f

mentally-breaking-down-alone-at-2AM Lyft rides exist in a liminal pocket of space-time where everything is simultaneously too long and not long enough; you won’t be able to return to feeling okay until you’ve returned home and fallen asleep, but you need the ride to last an infinite amount of time because you’re not ready to stop staring out of the window and dissociating as you think about the inevitability of your own demise