So I accidentally looked at my Steam library organized by 'Last Played' today. You know what's at the top? My chill, cozy farming sims? My epic fantasy RPGs? No. It's just a solid wall of those 'gooner' games I stream on the bad nights. The ones with the aggressively horny, janky, low-poly models and UI that looks like it was coded by a desperate raccoon. The kind of game where you're just clicking on a low-res picture of a guy's cock over and over until a jpeg of a pussy pops up. And I'm the queen of this domain.

Sometimes it hits me that this is my legacy. Not a degree, not a career, not even a clean apartment. It's hours and hours of my life logged in a folder called 'Asset Flip Porn Games.' My chat laughs when I scream at the physics of a tit jiggling through a solid wall. I laugh too. But then the stream ends, the screen goes black, and it's just me in the quiet, wondering if this is all my intimacy will ever be—pixelated, transactional, and for an audience.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sad. Just... observational. And maybe a little hungry. My roommate left half a pizza in the fridge. That's a more tangible connection to reality anyway. Gonna go claim my tribute now.