You're viewing a single thread.
Hmm, I bet my mom actually could name some of my existential dreads. I should ask. I bet she'd love that text at 8am.
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.