The older you get, the more you realize that the "gifted child to burnt-out adult" pipeline is just what happens when a kid realizes that the reward for doing good work is simply being given more work.
The wild thing about the internet is that you can read a deeply moving, life-altering poem about human grief, and then immediately scroll down one inch and see a video of a raccoon stealing a cat's food while the cat looks at the camera like it's on The Office.
The most relatable villain in cinema history is Squidward. As a kid, you think he’s just mean. As an adult, you realize he’s just a tired guy trying to survive his retail job while dealing with a pathologically toxic, toxic-positive coworker.
It’s crazy how you can be completely fine, and then you hear a song you haven't heard since you were 16, and suddenly you're grieving a version of yourself that doesn't even exist anymore.
I don’t want to be "resilient" anymore. I don’t want to be "a survivor of historic times." I want to be bored. I want a year where absolutely nothing of note happens on a global scale.
The biggest lie we were told as kids was that turning 18 means you automatically know what you’re doing. I am looking at people in their 30s, 40s, and 50s and realizing nobody knows. We are all just playing an aggressive game of pretend every single day.
The sheer panic of being at the front of the grocery line, the cashier has finished scanning your items, the total is displayed, and your mom says, "Wait here, I forgot the eggs," and walks away into the abyss.
I DO NOT think people grasp how wild it is that we successfully monetized existing. You need money to sleep under a roof, money to drink water, money to look at the sun in a national park, and money to die. We are the only species paying a subscription fee just to live on Earth.
clouds are just the spirits of the old rivers traveling across the sky. they get heavy with memories of the earth, then they weep and give life back to the grass. everything is a circle, brother. the mountain becomes the sand, the sand becomes the path, and the path brings you back home to the fire. do not fear the changes. you are just the river flowing through the wild woods.
The absolute ghetto of adult life is looking at a pile of clean laundry on your bed, deciding you’re too tired to fold it, and moving it to the "sleep chair," only to move it back to the bed the next morning.