Memorandum 1 The Types You Meet on the Side Quest.
Every side quest has its cast of characters. Not the ones you choose — the ones you inherit. The ones who appear uninvited, like NPCs coded into the landscape, each with their own script, their own quirks, their own uncanny ability to show up at exactly the wrong moment. You learn to recognise them. You learn to brace for them. You learn, eventually, to navigate them with the same weary expertise you use to navigate everything else.
The Fixers
These are the ones who hear two sentences of your story and immediately start offering solutions. They love a plan. They love a strategy. They love the idea that your life can be tidied up with a few bullet points and a motivational quote. They mean well — that’s the worst part. You can’t even be angry.
You just nod while they explain how you should “stay positive” and “focus on what you can control,” as if you haven’t already been doing that just to stay upright.
The Ghosters
They were there at the beginning. They sent the first message, the first casserole, the first “anything you need.” And then — silence.
You don’t blame them. Not really. Your reality is heavy, and some people simply don’t have the emotional muscle to lift even the edges of it. But their absence still stings in a way you don’t talk about.
The Observers
These ones hover. They don’t help, but they don’t disappear either. They watch your life like it’s a slow‑moving documentary — interesting, but not enough to intervene. They ask questions that skim the surface. They offer sympathy that never quite lands. They’re present, but not with you. You learn to accept their company the way you accept background noise.
The Unexpected Allies
These are the rare ones. The ones who show up quietly, consistently, without fanfare. They don’t try to fix anything. They don’t vanish when things get uncomfortable. They just sit beside you in the mess, unbothered by the fact that it’s messy. They bring tea. They bring silence. They bring the kind of steadiness that feels like a hand on your back, even when they’re not touching you.
You don’t forget these ones. You carry them forward.
The Ones Who Make It Worse
You meet them when you’re already stretched thin. They ask the wrong questions. They make the wrong assumptions. They say things like, “Well, at least—” and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming.
They don’t mean harm. But harm arrives anyway.
The Mirror-Holders
These are the hardest. They reflect back the version of you that existed before everything changed. They talk to you like you’re still her — the lighter one, the unbroken one, the one who didn’t have to carry this. You want to step back into that version. You want to believe she’s still reachable. But the mirror doesn’t lie.
You’ve changed. And they don’t know how to meet the person you’ve become.
The Ones Who Stay
Not because it’s easy. Not because they understand. But because they choose to. They don’t flinch at the weight you carry. They don’t rush your healing. They don’t expect you to be the version of yourself that makes them comfortable. They stay because they see you — the whole you — and don’t turn away. These are the ones who make the side quest survivable. These are the ones who remind you that even in the hardest chapters, you are not entirely alone.