The last thing that you should definitely see:

Goniomonas truncata

29/12/25

Near 2026 huh?


I don't know if you can feel it... This Christmas, and these days in general, which last year felt more festive, seems more depressing than last year. And it's not just because of my own gloomy attitude. I walk the streets, always accompanied by a family member because God knows I'm still a baby and it's all a plan to keep depending on my mother and further delay my maturation (she doesn't know that every now and then, I let myself be taken on some unfamiliar bus to some random place, just to memorize new areas).


( •_•)σ


But, in that way, I've noticed that everything is more subdued. There aren't as many events anymore, and the ones that are there are small, short-lived, and uninteresting. People are walking around more "normally"; there aren't as many people with bags and Christmas outfits or anything that inspires the Christmas spirit. The days look very ordinary; only the Christmas signs from some clothing and food brands bring you back to reality. It's Christmas, folks!



I don't know if I've mentioned it before. My mother had surgery. I won't say the exact name of the procedure for privacy reasons, but I must say it was a major removal of an important internal organ that was developing benign tumors. Yes, benign, but the risk of them becoming something more serious was looming, and boy, has it been true... because they found strange growths outside the predicted area.

My mother was discharged a few days ago, in fact, just yesterday. 24 hours and a few more. Soon it will be, what, two days? But it has felt like a brief hell. The first day was truly painful to watch. My mother in her weakest state, close to death. An old woman in the flesh. Very weak steps and voice. The trip to the house where she's resting was an absolute nightmare, the hottest day ever, and the roads full of potholes; no matter how slowly the car was going, it was impossible not to shudder with every sudden jolt.



₍⁽⁰⁻⁰⁾₎



Yesterday I found her crying in pain. And I know what I'm talking about, because I remember myself, when after my wisdom tooth surgery they couldn't get the painkillers in time, and I had to endure the two-hour wait in what was the worst pain of my life. Like breaking a bone, but continuously, while having a fish bone stuck in my gum. And I suppose that's how my mom felt, because damn, the surgical wound involved several layers of tissue deep, and a gap where the tooth had been, which has to heal with fibrous tissue. And I'm afraid the process isn't going to be quick.

I'm listening to music that matches my feelings, the general feeling. I remember last year well. It was the holidays, we ate at my grandmother's house, one of those cheap roast chickens that you have to fry again because there's blood on the bones. But everything felt good. Everything was fine. And yet, I felt helpless. Who knows why. Some fight with some so-called friend. Maybe I was still lamenting "H3R" then. At some point, I must tell you about "H3R," the one who hurt me the most.


But these days are different. I feel like I'm accumulating conclusions that summarize the accumulated sadness, the hopeless thoughts. Yesterday, M was telling me about her trip to the mountains, a camping trip with some friends. I don't know why I'm hiding what I think about it. The illusion that there's someone I can communicate with without fear of being ignored or not taken seriously enough. In the end, I gave in to the temptation to tell her about my mother. I suppose it went "well." At least, as expected from an interaction where at least one party doesn't expect anything more than the mere interaction to happen. I think in the end I haven't learned anything, nor have I let go of anything.

Today, a message about the work that has to be submitted in the first days of what will be 2026. A small dose of reality. There's nothing to celebrate. You don't reach paradise. You only reach another day. You decide what to do with that day, and you'd better decide wisely, because it could very well end abruptly, and you could instantly regret what you DIDN'T do. Or, what I find even crueler, you could find out that you'll have a painful end, one that will only intensify over time.


The atmosphere in my family isn't so relaxed. My mother has brought many people down to earth. We try to live normally, but that doesn't change the fact that she's in pain. She's in terrible pain, suffering terribly. It's the normal effect of the anesthesia. Of course I know that, for God's sake. I'm a damn biologist; I study biochemistry more than the damn plants in a forest. That's not enough. It doesn't even calm me down when I'm in so much pain that I curse the entire evolution of proteins, at least since the archaea. What's going to calm my mother, when she barely understands the magnitude of her surgery?

( /・・)ノ

                       ( /・・)ノ

                                                   ( /・・)ノ

                                                                             ( /・・)ノ

                                                                                                     ( /・・)ノ

                                                                                                                           ( /・・)ノ

                                                                                                                                                  ( /・・)ノ

And you know what the worst part of all this is? What I'm overlooking, and what should disgust me the most? That I've lost my attachment. I don't know. In movies or sad scenes of children crying for their mothers, they portray how they truly suffer for their mothers or fathers. But I've been unsettlingly calm. I haven't felt anything beyond concern. But concern that something serious might happen, something that would require taking her back to the hospital, and that would mean more expenses, therefore less money for... whatever it is I plan to do with my life, whether it's a master's degree (I don't know, knowing the nature of my final project), or starting an unsustainable business.

In other words, I'm worried about how bleak the situation might become in the context of my mother's surgery... but not "my mother" as such. I mean... God, I didn't think I'd say those words. But when I try to think about my mother, only good memories come to mind, when something nice happens between us, like a little cuddle or a hug. From there, what I remember are the beatings she gave me as a child, the yelling she did for every little mistake. The punishments. The restrictions. The "no yelling," my mother's authoritarian voice in social situations that made me uncomfortable, or even just when we were at home, and made me feel miserable. I look for unnecessary justifications, because in the end, I was a piece of shit myself, and it seems her actions didn't work, because instead of correcting me, they only made me afraid of her, afraid to do anything in front of her. When she's not around, I'm still afraid, and it triggers strangers getting annoyed or yelling at me for being a moron. Which has led to me becoming even more of a piece of shit.

So... that's it. It's the darkest conclusion. Today was my first day alone at home. In charge of the household chores. I realized some terrible mistakes in what was going to be my post about Goniomonas truncata. Damn, I'm not going to be able to meet my goal of 10 protist illustrations before the end of 2025. Sweeping, handwashing clothes, cooking my own food... it takes up a lot of time, it's exhausting by the end of the day, even though it feels like crap. Even so, and although it doesn't change the fact that it seems like a total waste of time (subjectively), I won't deny that I feel at peace without my mother. The food situation is a pain, my mom makes amazing dishes. But, on the other hand, I've gained the freedom to do things at my own pace without her complaining about what I do or my attempts to help her, without her belittling me and calling me a weakling, or comparing me to others. I guess that's what raising a child must be like.





/ᐠ-ꞈ-ᐟ\



‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊



‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊



Will I ever make any progress?


I don't know. I'm still reeling from the fact that the episode I watched tonight of "Watashi wo Tabetai, Hitodenashi" was the last one. I thought it would be a happier anime. I wasn't expecting such a heavy yuri. Not in the sense of blood, gore, or that over-the-top stuff. Somehow, the anime resonated with my feelings too.


Except, as always, it's fiction.


And in the kind of fiction I'm looking for, there's someone who cares about you selflessly.

No comments:

Post a Comment