When I was 5 or 6, my mom and stepdad gave my sister and me bikes for Easter. After church, they were like “do you wanna learn how to ride them?” And I was like??? Duh??. Once I got the hang of it, I was riding around in circles, showing off. My mom told me to “say cheese,” so I glanced at her for a second, and I FUCKING CRASHED 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 their lives, and then SPLAT. In retrospect, that was my first existential crisis.