I felt a moment of awe, a recognition that life on earth was fragile and delicate, and owed everything to the sun. I turned around and looked at the universe and shivered because it was so vast and essentially empty. I thought about Earth, this cosmic pebble circling a D-class star — and even then, this thing we call life inhabits only a tiny skim-coat of this fleck, and even within that thin coat, there isn't that much life at all. I looked back down at the planet and I thought, What a marvel to be among the fewest of few molecules in the universe allowed to experience this thing called life — stars and nebulas and black holes by the quadrillion, and yet only a few molecules on Earth get to be alive.
How bugs feel: When I was about 5/6 my mom and stepdad bought my sister and I bikes for Easter. After church they were like 'do you wanna learn how to ride them?' And I was like??? Duh?? I had finally gotten the hang of it and I was riding around the circle showing off, and my mom was like 'say cheese' so I look over at her for a second and I FUCKING RAM INTO A CAR AT FULL SPEED. A parked car that I didn't even see, like at all, so I just rammed into this car and I fell off my bike and I was crying and all I could think about was 'this must be how bugs feel' like they're flying around living life and then SPLAT. Looking back that was my first existential crisis.
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