The goal in the end is to say “I lived, motherfucker.” ![]() Survival requires persistence, the continuation of the self. Turns out, that’s not a habit that’s helpful in survival horror games either, which is a weird revelation to have. Mostly I just like the reminder that someone was here, that I exist, and have an impact on the space around me. I always try to do better-I understand their frustrations, I apologize-but change has been slow. Usually for other people-my partners, parents, the people who are left to contend with the consequences of my leaving the spaces I inhabit constantly looking like they’ve been rummaged through. Whatever the process behind it, I just don’t close things fully, if at all. A lot of doors stay open because I’m never sure if I’m finished with whatever’s beyond them. ![]() ![]() I’ll keep the fridge open while cooking until the beeping prompts someone to tell me to close the damn thing. Sometimes I underestimate how much force the smooth-glide hinges on a cabinet require to shut, or don’t want to make noise by overestimating how little force is required to shut something properly. See, I have a problem: I never close doors.
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