I dont know how to start this message, I don't know if anyone will find this, I just know my hands are freaking shaking. Hi guys, this is zerocoded, believe it or not. I'M ALIVE.
October 20th. I had a drop attack while driving from my school to my house (which you should not be doing while you're having Ménière symptoms, kids). I know the rules. I was supposed to pull over, wait it out, call someone. But I was running on 3 hours of sleep, 4 coffees, and the kind of burnout that makes you think “I can push through one more flare.”
I was wrong. The vertigo hit like a brick. No warning, no slow spin—just instant drop. My foot slipped off the brake, the wheel jerked, and I slammed into a guardrail at 60 km/h. Airbags deployed. Glass everywhere. I don’t remember the impact, not really, but I kinda do? It's more feeling than the memory itself, I don't know how to explain.
They found me unconscious, seatbelt still on, blood pooling under my head—or that's what my Mama told me, I wasn't really awake you know lol. Subdural hematoma. Induced coma to stop the brain from swelling into my skull. Two cardiac arrests in the first 48 hours. 26 days on a ventilator. I lost 8 kg—nothing by mouth, just tubes and IVs. My body ate itself to stay alive.
I woke up yesterday. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move my left hand at first. Still don't know if I can walk without a walker since the nurse advised me to stay in bed. My right ear is gone—total hearing loss from the trauma. Another surgery in 6 hours to try and save what’s left of the vestibular nerve.
I’m so sorry I’m yeeting this trauma dump at you like a drunk pigeon with a letter. You were counting on Domus Nosferati—the vampire series I hyped harder than a Marvel trailer. Chapter one was 14.1k, formatted, playlist chef’s kiss, scheduled for Halloween midnight. I was gonna watch the tag explode and cry happy tears with y’all. Instead my laptop did a barbecue in the wreck of my Fiat 500 and Tumblr said "what a good time to delete this account right here huh?". Poof. Every fic, every comment, every unhinged tag—poof. I opened the app and screamed so loud the nurse thought I got into a car crash again.
My sister finally handed me my phone yesterday (we have this grim sibling pact: if one of us ever yeets off the mortal coil, the other keeps the phone. Dark? Yes. Funny now? Also yes. Morphine is a hell of a drug). 3,847 email notifications. Your “where is zerocoded” posts. The comments. The conspiracy theories. I laughed, I sobbed, I drooled a little—10/10 hospital glam.
But I also had a notification saying my main email (my second one) was somehow hacked (?) and I lost a bunch of socials like Twitter and Spotify and allllll my other accounts. Also Ao3. That's why it seemed like I vanished for real. Well, I did. But not on purpose I swear. My brother told me this happened to him too and it has to do with Microsoft security program users and whatever. I don't know. I just know I almost died twice when I couldn't login to my @zerocoded account.
I’M SORRY I GHOSTED HARDER THAN A TUMBLR BOY IN 2014. I’M SORRY I LET YOU DOWN. I’M SORRY THE VAMPIRES ARE CURRENTLY HOMELESS.
But listen—I will resurrect zerocoded or die trying (again). I’ve already harassed Tumblr support so much they probably have my photo on a dartboard. We were 1.6k followers if I'm not wrong. Yikes. If they won’t bring the blog back, I’ll re-post TSJ here, word for word, typos and all, for anyone who still wants it. I owe you that. I owe you coffee and therapy and a group hug in a parking lot at 2 AM. I know my coded lovies will find me again if destiny is kind enough <3
(brain fog keeps body-slamming me; dad keeps confiscating my phone like I’m 12. this took 24 hours and three nurses to finish. send help)
The brain bleed is finally “stable, no re-bleed,” which means tomorrow they’ll yank the bolt they drilled into my skull to watch the pressure. My left hand is still doing the limp-noodle dance but they graded it 4/5 strength, so physical therapy starts torturing me daily for the next 4–6 weeks. Worst-case lifetime souvenir? A tiny twitch in my fingers when I’m 80, but I’ll still be able to pack a mean composite, so dental school isn’t totally doomed.
Right ear is officially a decorative rock—30 % of the vestibular nerve survived the crash, which means permanent deafness on that side and a lifelong wobble. Tomorrow at 6 AM they’re wheeling me in for a labyrinthectomy plus an experimental vestibular implant. If the implant vibes, I ditch the walker in three months. If it ghosts me, I get a fancy cane and a permanent ban from roller-coasters. Tinnitus moved in permanently too; the ENT literally told me to “download a white-noise app and make peace with it.” Cool, cool, love that for me.
Lungs are mad about the trach—they scraped the lining, so I’m spitting blood for another day or two. Voice sounds like I gargled gravel and the speech therapist says I’ll scare small children for at least two weeks (they, in fact, didn't said that—I'm just decorating this message to sound funny because I don't anyone grieving me. Please guys love me back, I'm dying). Nutrition-wise I’m up five forced calories a day via NG tube because my body ate 8 kg of itself in coma mode; they won’t let me leave until I stop looking like a ghost.
Biggest gut punch: dental school is on ice until March 2026. Neuro and ENT wrote a joint letter that basically says “patient safety > your ego, kid.” I told my mom “I can fill a molar with one hand and a prayer” and she threatened to reverse-park her Fiat over my good leg. (Please laugh, I need the endorphins.)
Discharge ETA: best-case 10 days if tomorrow’s surgery is clean, I walk 50 meters without face-planting, and no infections crash the party. Realistic timeline is 3–4 weeks plus a stint in inpatient rehab—home by Christmas if I smuggle brigadeiro to the PT staff.
Lifetime collaterals: one dead ear, possible chic cane, maybe an old-lady finger tremor. That’s the souvenir list. I’m salty, I’m dizzy, I’m still your chaotic Mari who almost gave you vampire fic instead of a funeral.
My plans: I don't have the fucking evergy to write shit, I'm going to be honest. The best case scenario is 3 weeks from now I'll be able to get off Midazolam for good. Then I MIGHT be able to make a decision of my life. I don't know if I'm going to be able to go back to school right away. I love Dental School. God, I loved my life. I still do, I swear. I think we'll just have to wait to March 2026 to know what the future holds. It's been more than 24 hours since I started writing this long ass message. I'm sorry to keep you waiting and I'm sorry if this is messy. I just wanted to update you guys SOMEHOW.
Anyways. God is good y'all. Writing TSJ healed me and it keeps healing me. So what I was dead for 26 days? I'm here to keep life a little less miserable. Enhypen is here to make our lives a little less miserable. K-Pop is here to make our lives a little less miserable. Writing is here to make my life a little less miserable. Art is here to make our lives a little less miserable. My zerocoded lovies are here to make my life a little less miserable. I just know God has greater plans for me and for all of us <3
I’m sentimental as fuck, sorry not sorry. I’m 20 and just starting this wild ride called life. I don’t know if I’m processing the crash, the coma, the 8 kg vanishing act “right,” but I know rushing it got me nowhere except a guardrail at 60 km/h. Maybe I sound insane, but I’m glad God let this wreck happen in my early 20s. It’s like He handed me a cosmic Post-it that says “slow down, dumbass.” From now on I’m valuing every breath, every typo, every 3 AM plot twist like it’s gold. Now I'm looking forward to the rest of my twenties like never before. I'm probably going to be fully deaf by the end of the month, but, IDK, I don't have the energy to be mad. I'm fucking emotional.
If this whole mess could mean something to anyone, then be grateful. Please. Hug your fucking dog and look at the fucking sky, you bitch. Say I love you to your parents and go visit your dying grandma. Stop only existing on your phone. Please. Go to therapy. Go to church. Pray. Laugh. Sing. Scream. Be greatful for the shit you go through. Don't give up. Don't be parasocial. Learn to enjoy life without obsessing over a 2D character. Don't only read smut and stop playing goony games. This is your warning. I'm being so for real.
There's a life out there and maybe you don't have much time. Really. Maybe you'll be in a hospital bed a week from now and—I don't wish this on anyone, I mean it—but maybe you won't have the support you think you'll have so it's better to not regret anything. Don't wish to be six feet under the moment you wake up, it's not any better down there. Pray to God to give you hope and He'll do it, I swear. Take me as an example and stop trying to make 100% out of everything, keep it slow. Breathe. You deserve rest. Physically and mentally. Give your brain a break.
Even with the things you love, do it for yourself, don't do it for others. Find the good in anything and you'll be happy. I believe there's a Heaven so I believe true happiness it'll be only up there, but try to find good in everyone and live a quiet life.
I just feel gut-punch guilty for my family—Mom aging ten years in one night, Dad sleeping in a plastic chair, my sister guarding my phone like it’s the One Ring. They went through hell while I was napping in a morphine haze. I’m forever grateful for a God who gave me a squad that fierce and a support community that spammed “where is she” until the nurses threatened to sedate them.
Hell yes I’m crying, baby. The heart monitor is having a field day. But these are the good tears—the kind that taste like second chances and vampire fic drafts and army bombs. I can't really write the rest of Hwanghon Guseul right now and, trust me, I feel bad about it, but I believe tattedvamp!Jungwon will live forever in our hearts. Maybe that's how things should've played out. Maybe all of this was TSJ!Sunghoon plan from the beginning to be y'all only hot vampy boyf forever. Sigh. I miss writing guys.
I'm sorry if I forgot you, I'm deep in Profolonol or whatever this drug is called, I just wish I could give you a hug right now. Yes, you. My mutuals, I'm so sorry for vanishing out of nowhere. I love you guys deeply. I don't even know if I can respond to each one of you guys messages, I see your messages, I'm just deep in the drugs bro (does this even make sense?) to properly reply.
@motherscrustytoenailclippings @kikidoul @hoonstrology @jun2ki @poppittypop @ferjinyoungiee @sosaphiee @gabrielinhaa @andassortedkpop @heesera @page-yerin @slytherinshua @yushadreamsriki @mailovesreading @elle-writes-fiction @artemesiareads @lostgirlysstuff @theothernads @angelhyuka @blushingkoo @reichuuu @psyches-reid @dollsette @nestarasikila @brokenengene @hesperisms @1009highway
If you're wondering why you were tagged, I'm being so for real when I say I appreaciate every little notification so much. Anyways. This was zerocoded for now. I'll try to keep you guys updated somehow. I love you forever, lovies. Truly. God bless us all <3333
