this post was submitted on 10 Apr 2025
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Don't be mean. I promise to do my best to judge that fairly.
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Lucky. My mom can't even name my gender, sexuality, or name, much less an existential dread or phobia.
Escalators. Those things freak me out. They're just waiting to eat my flip-flops, which I don't wear, or catch fire.
I really am incredibly lucky. She's the type of mom who will adopt people when their own parents are shitty, too, so we could share if you want.
And that's fair - I'm ok with escalators when I'm in closed toed shoes but I do get a little iffy in sandals. My one real phobia is wet paper (like very wet, I don't panic if I spill a little on my desk), so it's way weirder than escalators.