When I was around 5 or 6 years old, my mom and stepdad got my sister and me bikes for Easter. After church, they said, “Do you want to learn how to ride them?” And I was like, “Of course!”. Once I got the hang of it, I was riding around in circles, showing off. 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 their lives, and then SPLAT. In retrospect, that was my first existential crisis.