When I was about 5 or 6, my mom and stepdad bought my sister and I 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 said, “Say cheese,” so I looked over at her for a second, and I FUCKING RAMMED INTO A CAR AT FULL SPEED. It was a parked car that I completely missed, so I crashed into it, fell off my bike, and began crying, thinking, “this must be how bugs feel”. Like they’re flying around living life and then SPLAT. In retrospect, that was my first existential crisis.