I just finished a short student game called "Road Trip to the End of the World" and, as anything that has a good enough theme song, this game has impacted me way more than I could've expected.

The premise makes it really difficult for you to not give it a chance: Andy (the protagonist) is a dropout student from med school and she is now on a road trip to crash the wedding of her 14 years long friend...that just uninvited her from the ceremony. Better yet, she is not alone on this journey for she has the company of her imaginary fish friend, that she created years ago with her friend.

It's a fun and emotional story, beautifully crafted to fit a comprehensive character arc in 2 hours or so. I urge you, the reader, to give it a chance. (spoilers of the end at some point ahead)

But, as is the case with everything that you're not doing for work, my reason to write this text is not solely (nor even the main reason, being honest) because of its quality: it is because, on this short story, I saw an ugly reflection of myself. I knew of its existence but didn't dare to really face it. Well, up until now at least.

You see, I have a condition that doesn't allow me to not think obsessively about something that slightly bothers me. In general, I can only get rid of these obsessions by writing or having an internal discussion about it: you can think of it as a long conversation with myself about the topic until I get really tired and I can finally move on. That doesn't mean I always get to a conclusion, usually I just get tired and crash out.

Having an uncanny belief in myself and in my world view, but constantly reminding myself that I can be wrong, you can probably imagine now the mess that takes place in my mind constantly. And topics that more fundamentally shake my beliefs tend to be the worst to take care of.

In the story, Andy is a really self-centered character. Rationally, some of her most hurtful comments make sense, but they do not come to surface because of some worry about someone important to her but because she wants those comments to be true so she can keep things as they are. So that she can still convince herself that she has the control of the situation.

The worst part is that even though caring about her friend is not the first motivation there is still, obviously, some care there. Enough at least to let her keep deluding herself that she is right and that any action taken because of this (or by her opinion being ignored) is just.

And, let me tell you, when you read something that feels like a reflection of yourself, and when you have my type of mind that asks immediately if "am I not the one who is projecting instead?", the chaos is born.

Or not.

Instead, what I (and Andy) got this time was some closure. In her case she ends up missing the ceremony (maybe even on purpose). But before the end of her long trip she is forced to face the fact that her absence didn't really meant much. That things sometimes break more definitely for some than others.

Fortunately she also starts accepting that she doesn't have the control of everything and also understands that caring can also mean letting it go. It hurts, but a connection exists as long as two parts are connected, and once one is just not there anymore even the memories are better left behind.

In my case, I finally swallowed the hard truth that what it means to care is to accept people important to you as different than yourself. To not stop them because you want to and think it's the right thing, but to be there for them to share the joy or give them a shoulder in tough times. Because it is not for you to make a decision for them.

First text, this was a mess, but let it be another fact corroborating to how much accepting something you are turning a blind eye constantly can affect you.

See you next time to talk about Pandora's Tower.