Dispatches from the Emotional Trenches: A Guide to Being a Cancer
Forget the daily horoscopes. A special Gorko correspondent (and a Cancer by birth) delivers the ultimate, unfiltered reality check on why living in an armored shell is simultaneously a fucking nightmare and an absolute flex.
a short list of why it’s fucking shit to be a cancer:
- being called ‘sensitive’ by people who have the emotional depth of a dry kitchen sponge.
- your ‘protective shell’ just meaning you’re an armored ball of pure, unfiltered anxiety.
- absorbing the mood of a room so intensely that you walk into a store for milk and leave with the personality of an angry truck driver named Bob.
- constantly feeling used but being too emotionally codependent to just pack your bags and leave.
- the uncontrollable urge to nurture everyone, including the toxic dumpster fires who thrive on your tears.
- the physical inability to throw away a moldy lemon from the fridge because “we’ve been through so much together this week.”
- putting heavy weights on gym equipment just to feel some gravity because your emotions keep launching you into outer space.
a short list of why it’s fucking awesome to be a cancer:
- having a memory so terrifyingly perfect that you can resurrect an inside joke from 2009 with forensic precision, just to make a person laugh right in the middle of their mental breakdown.
- having a bullshit detector that works so ruthlessly accurately that you can physically smell a person’s rotten nature from three time zones away.
- possessing the terrifying, god-like ability to know exactly what to say within the first few seconds to emotionally destroy an enemy, but choosing an arrogant and aggressive ignore instead.
- having a psychopathic, uncontrollable urge to feed all your people into a happy food coma and never, under any circumstances, skimping on the absolute best food for those you love.
- loving your friends with the unhinged, feral intensity of a mama bear who just took six shots of espresso.
- experiencing music, art, and life itself on an emotional frequency of 4K ultra-HD, while everyone else is watching it on a chunky TV from 1998.
ABOUT THE ARTIST

Iryna Somkina is a Kyiv-based writer. She is Best Small Fiction nominee; her works appear in Gone Lawn, ANMLY, Heavy Feather Review and everywhere else. She explores ambivalence of intimacy in gritty reality.
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