Fuck. Realized why I'm on edge today.
It's Jan 19, 2026.
30 years ago today my world ended in my second dissociative break. The first was after the assault. This one was... related, but it was worse, and it ended with being a homeless, insulin-dependent diabetic queer teenage girl with no health insurance living from couch to car for months and burning out on simultaneous minimum wage jobs.
This anniversary is the first one since dad's suicide, and I'm just still here. "Fuck you. Make me."