"Joy and whimsy keep the existential horrors away"

Hey, I get it. Shit is tough, and I've been there more times than I'd like to admit.

I know it's hard. Stuff piles up, stuff gets overwhelming. And it sucks. It really does. You're not alone, though. I know that's kinda a cliché, but it's true. There's a whole fuckin world of people right up your alley, just gotta find em.

Distractions help me. Just little things. I know it's really not easy when you're feeling like shit, but just do something. Go for a walk. Watch a movie. Do something creative. Play a video game. Find something to look forward to. There's a cool movie or game coming out that you're kinda looking forward to? Then look forward to it. You gotta see it, right? Gotta play that game when you can, right?

People like to say that "Oh it doesn't last forever", but that doesn't always help. Sure, it might not. But what about when those thoughts come back? So instead of that Hallmark shit people who don't know what it's like to struggle peddles to those like us, just focus on what you like, what keeps you going.

he slowly creeps over them while they drive, forcing a relic malfunction. their knuckles tighten around the steering wheel as they grit their teeth, trying to keep johnny at bay through sheer will alone. "fuck off, man. i don't need this."

"you're being a fucking idiot." johnny's voice barely reaches their ears through the crackles and static. black spots, fading around the edges -- their vision's going. v presses their foot down on the pedal, pops like gunfire sounding under the hood as they flood the engine with gasoline.

electricity runs down v's sandevistan-spine, spreading through their entire nervous system in an instant. they jolt and bang their knees against the steering column. johnny takes the wheel, keeping his foot off the pedal as the car starts to finally slow. v kicks forward, dumping gasoline in again.

"can't you stay dead for once?" johnny barks, forcing his ankles underneath the driver's seat. "fucking christ -- what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i need to get outta this city!" v shouts, their voice heavy with static. they grab at johnny's forearms from behind, imaginary pain where their fingernails should be digging into his skin. "i'm gonna die on my own goddamn terms. not rotting in that cesspit."

"what, you gonna run to another corp that'll just use us as a lab rat?" he says, slowly easing his foot onto the brake. it's just desert out here -- too far to be night city, too close to be nomad territory. "or are you gonna wrap this car 'round a pole?"

"you see any fuckin' poles?" v snaps, their grip loosening as their hands start to shake. they let go, their arms now just resting on top of johnny's.

he jerks the wheel, driving through a break in the median. johnny straightens the car out and drives back towards the way they came. "you're gonna get us killed doing stupid shit like that. our best chance is in that fucked-up shithole of a city."

"what if panam was right?" they say, a ghost of their touch tracing the back of johnny's neck and shoulders. "what if we're not looking wide enough? she's heard of miracle ripper-surgeons in the valley. there could be some egghead neuro-expert at harvard waitin' for something like us."

"california sucks, and boston is full of pricks," he says. "you can't give up at the fuckin' finish line."

"i just..." their voice is a low, trembling whisper in his ear. the weight of their chin on his shoulder is imaginary, but he still feels it and it still brings him comfort. "i just don't want to die, johnny."