#r/offmychest

[amithedevil]

[roffmychest]

I'm getting ready fucking tired of big chested transmen only being talked about in relation to fem transmen, whether that's to degrade us and insist that's why they have to keep misgendering us, or by allies sticking up for us. I just....I'm not fem. I'm not fem AT ALL. I have the wardrobe of an insufferable teen boy. The only thing "fem" about me is my body, which I can't currently change! But when people talk about transmen with large chests they always tack on the fact that that hypothetical man is also feminine. Im not feminine, I'm not at all, and it makes me want to cry everytime this happens because its just another reminder that everyone seems a woman when they see me. They see a fem woman because those two things are forever intertwined and I must be both of them simply because of my fucked up body. I hate it. I hate it so much

.

[soupedepates]

Not later than yesterday I posted on r/offmychest my fears about my drinking habits becoming an alcohol problem

The audacity of the only guy to interact by shaming European pov toward alcohol (yeah starting to drink at 15 is normal here???? And you had at least some glasses of wine when you were little)

So I responded

Just look this was crazy (I am OP)

I explained in my post that drinking is the way I treat my mental health issues when in a social setting with high stress and no way out

They never responded after I asked for their sources (bruh)

Eh

They don't know how much I struggle nor how an addiction works

Or just another self-righteous American Puritan idk idgaf

They just stumbled on the wrong person tho, I love looking for random stuff and especially statistics uwu

[mithrvn]

makes me cringe when i remember how at least two of the times i got horribly sunburned as a kid/teen (think ive been sunburned three times) it was through the negligence of my parents in hindsight. like the first time my father put extremely expired sunblock on me which was basically like cooking oil and i got the worst, blistering, skin peeling burn ive ever had from a short time in the pool (and then my family had a good laf and took photos of the lines on my back lol). and then the other time i remember. my arm got sunburned in the car and i told my mother and she was like 'you cant get burned through the window' and then on that same trip she didnt even get/bring/give me sunblock to put on before we went on a boat for like 2-3 hours and i forgot my baseball cap which at least wouldve helped, and i got horribly burned sitting under the sunshade hoping for the best and intermittently putting a shirt over my head. a few minutes on the boat without my hat and i was like shittttt i'm so fucked and my mother was just like ohh well well you shouldn't have forgotten !!!stop complaining youll get a tan!! i would've been asking other passengers if they brought any sunblock if that was my kid, but my mother does not believe in uv. no fucking way as a responsible adult would i ever set foot on a boat on the fucking ocean without sunscreen in my bag. holy shit

[deafwishesblog]

My Mother Might Be Haunting Me - A Bittersweet Notion

I'd like to begin this chapter on a relatively uplifting note, delving into a topic that holds a special place in my heart. As I reflect on the past, I can't help but recall the reactions of those close to me during the trying time of my mother's passing. Many of them, understandably, turned to well-intentioned yet ill-fitting grief literature for solace. One prominent recurring theme was the phrase or variations of, "she will always be with you." The idea that my mother is watching over me, a constant presence, "no matter what," might sound reassuring on the surface, but in truth, is horrifying.

My mother was a delightful woman, full of her own quirks and characteristics. She did however, possess a strictness, a strong set of opinions and an unwavering stubbornness that defined her. The thought that she might be ever-present, observing every aspect of my life, is an idea fraught with complexity. Was she really there when I grazed her car in the garage? Did she witness the moment her cherished poppies refused to bloom due to my forgetfulness? And what about my first date with my boyfriend—was she a silent companion then? The more one contemplates this notion, the less comforting it becomes, shedding light on the unintended implications of such a sentiment.

While I wouldn't label myself as religious or spiritual, I am a firm believer in the idea that events carry some form of purpose. I've adopted the practice of assigning meaning to occurrences, a sort of insurance against the uncertainties of life. I don't hold a belief in a higher power or subscribe to the notion that my mother is perpetually observing my every move. Yet, there's a thought that lingers: What if she is? With this uncertainty in mind, allow me to share a few instances where I've sensed her influence on the course of events.

In doing so, I hope to capture the essence of these moments and explore the intricacies of belief, remembrance and the unexplainable connections that persist beyond the physical realm.

The Poppies

The relentless progression of my mother's inoperable brain tumour, entwining its way along her optic nerve, threatened to steal her vision, adding to the hearing loss she had already endured. The prospect of confronting a world devoid of both sight and sound had inflicted profound anxiety upon her and the weight of that thought was crushing. In moments like these, I find myself thankful that she was spared such helplessness.

These circumstances, however, pressed upon me a heavy teenage responsibility: passing my driving test. The urgency was twofold — for everyday errands and potential emergencies. I dedicated hours to mastering the skill, yet the relentless disruptions caused by COVID threw obstacles in my path, forcing the cancellation of my test not once but five times. All this effort was for her. I was determined to prove my capability, especially as she considered palliative care. It's challenging to reflect on how I was primarily motivated to learn to dissuade my mother from dying.

Passing the driving test was a formidable endeavour. Countless hours navigating the bustling streets of London, combined with my own financial struggles, painted a vivid picture of determination. My free hours were spent divided between my mother's bedside at the hospital and anxiety-ridden driving sessions. This taxing schedule, in hindsight, perhaps helps explain why my partner of nearly two years chose that juncture to exit my life. It was the eve of my test, a mere few weeks after my mother's departure, adding another layer to an already complex time. But that's a story for another day.

Eventually, I succeeded in passing the test. As I was dropped off at home by my instructor, my initial excitement gave way to a bittersweet reality—I had no one to share this triumph with. It's customary to inform your parents of such a milestone achievement, but both my parents were no longer around. The silence in the house was palpable, my friends were occupied, and my former partner had chosen to leave. The weight of loneliness engulfed me, and I wept, a torrent of emotions that underscored the primal desire to share accomplishments with those closest to us.

Amidst this storm of emotions, I compelled myself to step outside, to take in a breath of fresh air and regain composure. And there, in that moment of vulnerability, I saw them—the poppies. Those very poppies I had believed were casualties of my distracted grief. My mother's cherished poppies, once seemingly lifeless, now burst forth in vibrant bloom. Their bright, delicate petals were a poignant sight. They had persisted and thrived. I could not conjure a more fitting symbol of my mother in that garden. While reason might attribute their blooming to nature's timing and resilience, I choose to embrace the belief that my mother's energy, whether a cosmic force or at their planting, was a guiding hand. In that moment, her presence felt tangible, her pride in my achievement an undeniable truth.

The poppies' resilience was a reflection of her spirit, a testament to the enduring love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. In this intricate dance of life's moments, I find solace in the belief that she, in some form or another, was there with me, celebrating a milestone that was as much hers as it was mine.

This one's for you!

In the latter years of my mother's life, music faded from her world. Deafness had gradually taken hold during the mid-2010s, much to her heartbreak. Yet, amidst the gradual silence, there remained a handful of notable artists who broke through, of which she could recall and hum, and boy did she hum. Bruno Mars is one such artist.

Last year, a poignant moment unfolded after my brother and I concluded our annual pilgrimage to Littlehampton—a coastal town where the ashes of my mother found their final resting place. As we parted ways, dropping my brother off, I found myself in a state of emotional fragility. The day had unfolded beautifully, a gentle reminder of the joys life could offer, yet beneath the surface, a storm of grief remained unresolved. I had rushed through the day, my thoughts pulled in a myriad of directions, leaving me unable to truly confront the depths of my sorrow. In moments like these, I've learned that it's crucial to carve out time for mourning; otherwise, grief surges forth uninvited.

On this particular day, as I navigated the road ahead with teary eyes, I was suddenly compelled to pull over. The weight of my emotions overcame me and my car became a sanctuary for my unbridled tears. It was in this raw, vulnerable moment that fate played its hand. The voice of a Heart Radio host uttered a simple yet profound statement: "If you're finding yourself having a tough day, this one's for you!" The ensuing notes carried a familiar warmth, the opening strains of "Just the Way You Are" by Bruno Mars.

Now, I'm well aware that recounting this might evoke a cringe-worthy response, even from myself.  Yet, amidst the almost therapeutic absurdity of it all, I couldn't help but understand the profound symbolism. If my mother, in her realm of limited auditory experiences, had the chance to choose a song for that exact moment, "Just the Way You Are" would have been her resounding selection.

An Explosive Drive:

Lately, the concept of coincidences and the idea of my mother's presence accompanying me have occupied my thoughts, particularly since embarking on the journey of crafting this blog. In a remarkable twist of fate, reminiscent of the prior anecdote, I found myself once again engulfed in tears as I sat behind the wheel of my car. It's no surprise that such episodes unfold commonly after the dual occurrence of losing a parent and gaining a driver's license within the same month.

Seeking to test the boundaries of my mother's potential influence, I vocalized my feelings of being lonely and adrift in life. I articulated a longing to feel her presence and with a hint of humour, I threw in a half-joking remark about how she could put on another song, fully aware that I was tuned into Heart's late-night techno show—a genre far removed from my dear mother.

The night was a warm, unremarkable August evening. As I embarked on my drive, I turned a corner and there, directly in the middle of my windshield, an isolated firework burst into a vivid display against the night sky. Its brilliance illuminated the darkness. A solitary firework, unexpected and inexplicable.

In that extraordinary moment, my scepticism wavered. It was as if the universe itself had conspired to respond to my plea. While I understood the logical explanations—perhaps a nearby event or celebration was responsible for the firework—I chose to perceive it as something more. It was as though my mother had found a way to orchestrate a message beyond the realms of conventional communication.

As the echoes of the firework's brilliance faded into the night, I felt a profound connection. Whether by the mysterious currents of fate or by the gentle touch of my mother's spirit, that firework became a beacon of assurance. A reminder that even in the darkest of moments, when logic and reason falter, the universe has its ways of delivering answers. It might not always be through sentimental lyrics or familiar tunes; sometimes, it's through the unexpected, the unscripted and the uncanny.

Conclusion:

I hope the sentiments I express here don't come across as naive. I acknowledge that I can't assert with absolute certainty that my mother orchestrates these coincidences from beyond, nor can I even entertain the possibility under duress. However, on a personal level, I've chosen to imbue these occurrences with meaning, a way to cherish and narrate them with newfound fascination.

I'm well aware that this notion might evoke sadness in some; nevertheless, for me, these instances offer solace. It's not the notion of her everlasting presence that brings me comfort, but rather the idea that she materializes when her guidance is most needed – just as a mother's presence should. This is the very essence I seek in my adult years, a parental connection that I find myself yearning for. I am profoundly thankful that these seemingly insignificant episodes bestow upon me a faint semblance of the support I crave.

Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts. Following to hear more of these anecdotes would hold immense significance for me.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

JANE: It's 2am and I just spilled olive oil on my bed. Nowhere else to sleep.

DIRK: Why did you have olive oil in bed?

JANE: ...I was making bruschetta.

[transingthoseformers]

You ever read/watch a reddit story and it's just "why do I not believe you?"

[gu6chan]

ohhhh wait i just remembered my older half-sisters are in direct range of hurricane milton what the fuck

[hereticallyeverafter]

I'm gagged, like, I'm trying to joke about it but my fee fees are actually hurt-- I've been trying to help my friend get a girl- he's single and hates it, and he's quite conventionally attractive, very sweet, very smart, but he keeps getting thwarted by his autism/AUDHD, basically, which I think intimidates people, but it shouldn't, but whatever, let the trash take itself out.

So I'm late dxed ADHD and believe you me, I've experienced Some Shit, but because I never knew my "actual problem" til now, I never actually faced ADHD discrimination.

until

today.

I mentioned to Pal that I'd recently read a study how ADHD people tend to either have an "overabundance" of empathy or "none at all" (per NT standards ofc but a root of many socializing issues,) but anyway, he'd said before he couldn't stand trying to date another person with autism or ADHD, but I suggested perhaps if he found a sweetspot with someone with ADHD who had that kind of empathy. Disclaimer: I know stereotyping isnt fabulous, I was digging around trying to be optimistic. Could he pull a NT girl? Sure, but his odds might be better if he fished from his own pond, so to speak, someone who Gets It; basically, maybe don't rule it out? He's his own man, he can do what he wants lol

And he goes, "No, I've even prayed to God, NO ONE with disabilities, I can't do it". There was more but like, bruh. dude. my guy... ouch :(

I get being frustrated but like. We're your people too. I feel like, adultily speaking, we're both entitled to our feelings, so I'm not going to hold it against him bc I know that came from a place of frustration, but also thanks for popping my discrimation cherry, bestie -_-

ALSO he calls me back to tell me his coworker gave him great advice: that he's still young, he should relax and be more easy-going, maybe get out of the house more ALL STUFF I'VE BEEN SAYING TO HIM FOR WEEEEKS

not all men, but.... men 🙄😒

[roffmychest]

My Near Death Experience

[CW for death and mentions of religion]

I had a near death experience towards the end of 2019. It all started when I began experiencing severe tachycardia. I had tachycardia before, but this was much worse than anything I’ve ever dealt with, so my roommates convinced me to go to the emergency room.

Once I was there, it only got worse. I think I was around 200 BPM. They ran some tests and discovered my potassium was extremely low, but didn’t know why. They decided to keep me there for observation. I was given a horse pill of a potassium supplement that I couldn’t choke down and Ativan.

After the Ativan, my condition stabilized enough for them to let me go home sometime in the early morning. The Ativan made me very cloudy headed. I cannot remember how I even got home. The only thing I remember is that one moment I was On the phone with my roommates in the hospital and the next I was on the couch back at the house.

I don’t know if I was sick or if it was just the Ativan but I was so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I had never been that tired in my life. I collapsed on the couch with all my clothes and shoes on. I remember feeling an extreme heaviness in my chest just before I dozed off and feeling like I was drifting out of my body.

At first, it felt like I was waking up from the deepest sleep I’ve ever had. I was near a river with black water that had a bunch of sticks floating in it. Everything was dark and gloomy like I was Underground. I think I might have been on a small boat or some thing because I wasn’t in the water, but I was moving and I kept dipping my hands in and moving the sticks around like if I moved them out of the way, some thing else would be behind them.

Then I felt a falling sensation and woke up feeling like I have been dropped from somewhere very high up. Paramedics and my roommates were standing around me. I had no idea what the hell was going on. I later found out that I hadn’t been breathing. Apparently one of my roommates Tried to wake me up to give me something to eat, and I was completely nonresponsive, which isn’t like me. She was concerned and held a mirror in front of my nose. There was no fog.

Apparently I was not breathing and did not have a pulse. She was really worried about me and tried to get my other two roommates to call somebody but they didn’t take the situation seriously. She finally called the paramedics herself. While all of this was going down, apparently she had texted my girlfriend at the time freaking out, saying that I was dead on the living room couch. Apparently I was like that for quite some time before they got to me and I woke up for no apparent reason.

Anyway, I was clinically dead, and I didn’t think much of it until later, but I think I saw the veil. I didn’t see any deceased family members. There was no sense of peace. I saw neither Heaven nor Hell. I didn’t meet God or Jesus. I just remember going down a black underground river full of sticks.

I haven’t told this to anybody, except for one friend. He’s big into Greek mythology, and he thought perhaps I saw the freaking river Styx. We don’t know though. It was very strange.

.

[slavhew]

r/offmychest My girlfriend washed my hair today

[mithrvn]

[about to make a white boy struggle meal for the 800th time in a row]

[claired3lune]

aita stories are so wild. just watched a tiktok of one that was like “i told my girlfriend that i think my best friend is more attractive than her. now she’s mad at me. am i the asshole?”.... like..........................

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Breakfast-Bird-450

I kept thinking you were neglecting to mention a bunch of facts and I'd have to pull them out of you to know the full picture, but then you revealed everything at the end.

Parents killed in front of her? Foster system? Five years old?

Yeah, those things are traumatic. Not "traumatic" as you put it. They're legitimately traumatic. It makes sense for a child to be quiet and afraid and have a hard time trusting after that. And you "setting her straight" by telling her she's not special and calling her names. That's bullying. Your dad is right and you're an immature bully.

Accept the therapy. You need it.

204 upvotes

warypaperplot

you're really stuck on her not being related to you huh

90 upvotes

these_boots_were_made_for_slaughter

It's obvious that's why he hates her. He's not even worried that she's RUN AWAY FROM HOME. As someone who loves my adoptive sibling, I'm really disgusted. OP, you suck.

46 upvotes

doawan

You claim she's spoiled and always doing trouble – how? It sounds to me she's just dealing with a traumatic childhood and a brother whose dead set on not understanding her...

157 upvotes

real-proud4558073

Girls are always more coddled, especially if they're also the youngest. Typical golden child and you're the scapegoat. It's hard, man, trust me I know. But don't go full nc yet, start with lc and see how that works. Maybe your dad will realize it's not worth losing his son after losing a foster daughter.

-24 downvotes

r/offmychest:

My little sister assaulted me but I'm somehow the bad guy because she ran away from home rather than face the consequences of her actions.

Posted 24th of May, 2021

I (20M) was recently assaulted by my (18F) sister, and rather than face the consequences of her actions decided to run away from home. And now I'm being treated as the bad because I said that it would be better if she never returned.

For context, me and my twin brother Big C were raised by our father (40?M) after our mother gave up her parental rights after giving birth to us. I have never met my mother, and this is fine because who needs someone that flakey in their lives.

Up until we were about eight it was just my dad, brother, and me. Until one month or so after our eighth birthday, our dad decided to adopt two girls. V (23F) and Jinx (a fitting name, trust me).

At first I was confused but after learning that V was biologically my sister, I got excited. At the time I mistakingly thought that Jinx must have been my biological sister also, but it turned out she had a different father. I remember asking why we were taking her in if she wasn't actually related to us and my dad growled at me to never say anything like that again, it was the first time he ever growled at me and over an innocent question no doubt.

I knew better than to ever say something like that again, I tried to be welcoming to her and although V was engaging and friendly, Jinx would not speak to anyone. She always stayed quiet and whenever our dad would go near her she would cower away and get teary eyed.

I hated how she acted like my dad would hurt her, and fully believe that this is why her therapist thought that my dad was abusive. The poor woman ended up losing her job because of Jinx's dramatics.

The sad thing is that I seem to be the only person who truly sees Jinx for what she is. Trouble.

For a while, I thought everyone else was starting to see also but nothing was ever really done about her behavior. Except to send her off to her rich uncle (maternal) who would shower her with praises for her art and grades, and give her gifts. This only made her spoilt.

I tried to counter this by reminding her that she wasn't special so that she wouldn't get a big head and all she would do was start crying and then lock herself in her room and I would be the one getting chewed out.

well, you basically get the idea.

Coming to the true crux of this post.

A few days ago, I was at home minding my own business, and trying to enjoy my gap year. When Jinx comes in and is crying, yet again.

Maybe I let my annoyance get the better of me and called her a crybaby. She stops and just stares at me, and then her face contorts into this really ugly way and she screams loudly, before launching herself on me and starts beating me up.

I was taken completely off guard and tried to defend myself as much as possible, but she is surprisingly strong despite being a skinny ass.

And she just keeps saying "I hate you, I hate you" as she beats me.

My dad came in and pulled her off of me, whilst I cradle my bloody nose (literally bloody) and I catch dad telling her to get out and I felt elated for a minuet because I thought that he FINALLY saw sense.

But after she bolts from the house my dad drives me to the hospital to make sure nothing is broken (nothing was broken thank Janna), and as we are driving home I ask if we are going to the Enforcer station. Dad looks confused and asks why, and I say to press charges. My dad states that I will not be pressing charges because an ass whooping was long overdue.

I felt shocked and betrayed and got angry, I kept asking why he's always going so easy on her.

She wasn't his daughter, not really

She was constantly causing problems with her outbursts and "trauma"

She emasculated him by getting her uncle to pay for her studies

And, she just assualted your flesh and blood.

My dad stayed silent, and I thought this meant that I won the argument. But as soon as we got home, he kills the engine and turns to me. Looks me in the eyes and tells me in no uncertain terms.

"I have tried being patient with you OP. I have explained to you again and again that your little sister is not this monster you make her out to be. Her trauma is real, she watched her parents die in front of her, and that's enough to affect a grown man let alone a small five-year-old girl who didn't know the concept of death. She experienced some shit in the foster system before finding her way to us. And I have done everything I can to help her the way she needs, whilst raising the rest of you kids. I tried to be understanding of you when you were a kid because you didn't know better, I tried to be patient with you when you were a teenager because Gods know I was a real shithead when I was younger. But you are an adult now, my patience is extremely thin. You need to start figuring your shit out because your sister doesn't, and never did, deserve the hate you throw at her"

I won't lie, this hurts. Despite how Jinx is, I do love her I just feel like I'm the only person trying to set her straight.

I pointed at my face and stated that I wasn't the one who hated her, on the other hand she saw no problem with hating me.

Dad asks why she attacked me, I said I didn't know (I didn't want him to twist my words around on me) he just looks at me and says "You're sister wouldn't just attack you without reason".

At this point, I tried to get out of the car, but my dad grabbed my arm, held me in place, and demanded again what I did.

I finally relented and said I called her a crybaby and he groans at me, I said "see she completely blew everything out of proportion". He says that Jinx shouldn't have attacked me, but then asks why I felt the need to insult her.

I lost it and said that she's always crying.

I can't walk past her room without hearing her cry, SHE IS A CRYBABY.

Dad just looked at me, and disappointment was written all over his face. Not at Jinx, but at me.

He takes a deep breath and says to me that I had two options.

I agree to go to family and individual therapy because I am an adult now, and this "petulant child" and "victim complex" is not healthy for anyone.

I continue to act the way I am, but I need to move out and start standing on my own two feet and learn what actual struggle feels like because I've had it pretty easy with life, and hopefully gain some empathy in the process.

Either way, I was never, ever going to bully Jinx again.

I spent the rest of the night in my room stewing over everything, I ignored V when she started banging on my door demanding what I did to "her little sister" before C-Man convinced her to leave me alone. But afterward, he asked me, through the door, when I was going to grow up before leaving himself.

At some point the three of them, Dad, V, and C-Man. left the house to work at the family bar. I refused to leave my room and Dad told me to take the night off to 'lick my wounds'. I fell asleep at some point and woke up briefly because I thought I heard someone walking past my door but just chalked it up to one of the others and went back to sleep.

I didn't leave my room the next morning, out of protest, but saw Dad leaving to go over to Jinx's BBF's house no doubt to continue coddling her.

However she wasn't there, and after searching the whole day, didn't seem to be anywhere.

It's been several days now, Enforcer's can't go looking for Jinx because it was proven that she left voluntarily. Apparently, that person I heard that night was Jinx scurrying off with her belongings and paperwork.

Honestly, I'm glad she's gone. But my dad is still holding up the ultimatum, he says that when she returns I will have my shit together and that he's disappointed in how unaffected I'm acting.

So long story short. My little sister beats me up, and somehow, I get in trouble instead, she runs away from the consequences BUT DAD'S ULTIMATIUM IS STILL IN EFFECT.

It's completely unfair. I'm the victim here.

Honestly, I'm considering going no contact with everyone because I'm done with JINX getting all the support.

Thanks for listening to my rant.

This is a fan fic, please read tags

[sahrabarik]

actually u know what ill just make my own post

its frustrating obvi to have someone arguing w u abt whats canon v not but its genuinely frustrating when canon also contradicts its own shit even in the same continuity. Its also just sort of the trend of fandoms these days i feel

[pitchblackespresso]

I feel like I'm on r/OffMyChest, but there's something I've been meaning to say for some time

I dislike the Zonai

Their execution was lackluster (there's some interesting stuff, but the environmental storytelling is too sparse and inconsistent for any sort of coherent theory-crafting), but what I despise the most is how they're retroactively shoehorned into botw's worldbuilding

The Sheikah tech ? Heavily implied to be a derivative of the Much Superior Zonai tech

Hyrule Castle? Was built to honour Rauru's sacrifice

Calamity Ganon? Leaked gloom-turned-malice from dehydrated Ganondorf's seal

Temple of Time? The ~original~ was Zonai-made

Typhlo Ruins? Actually Hylian made, but to honour the great King Rauru (again)

Rauru himself is Zelda's ancestor (and implied source of her sealing powers, retconning the Triforce)

The Forgotten Temple? Also Zonai and used by King Rauru to hide the Secret Stones

Ancient Hero? Some kinda Zonai hybrid creature

This narrative of "everything was the Zonai/Rauru all along" is one I don't vibe with, because not only does it give inconsistent backstory to things that didn't need it, but they then left us with more questions than answers due to just how little we actually know about the Zonai.

I also wanna mention how much I dislike the Gacha machines that dispense the complete eyesore that are the Zonai devices. They're a fun enough gameplay concept (tho I don't personally like it), but it makes no sense how you get functioning hydrants or rockets out of gachapons. The Sheikah tech was given ample backstory, and clashed with Hyrule's otherwise rugged wilderness for thematic reasons. The Zonai tech is just kind of an ugly reminder that this is a videogame, and that you get these pre-made devices because the devs wanted to make a sandbox, regardless of whether it fits in this medieval high fantasy setting with serious undertones and environmental storytelling. And since they're branded as Zonai-made, they add to my discontent with the Zonai

I love this game, and it's done so much right (even tho some people might say otherwise), but I cannot bring myself to enjoy much of anything related to the Zonai, which, despite being barely in the game, play a huge role in the story, environment and worldbuilding