written january 2025
it was like Schroedinger's box:
as long as i didn't try to load my save file,
my Pokémon were neither saved nor lost.
and as long as they weren't lost,
i could carry on
as if nothing was wrong.
but after four months,
i decided i had waited long enough.
but i think, deep down, i already knew
that Nintendo had screwed me over.
it wasn't like i hadn't seen the error message when—
naively, innocently, blissfully unaware—
i plugged my SD card into my Switch
the day it arrived in the mail,
when i saw the word "corrupted"
and my stomach sank in despair.
but it was too much to bear at the time,
so i put it off.
as long as i didn't try
to load my save file,
then the thousands of hours,
the hundreds of shinies,
the dozens of maxed-out friendships
with level 100s
with perfect EVs
and badges
and bonds
and sentimental value—
it was all okay.
because they were neither safe, nor lost.
they weren't real; they were just data,
which was either on my SD card,
or not.
but upon opening Schroedinger's box,
obviously the cat was dead,
because it had been 4 months
since it had last been fed.