When I was around 5 or 6 years old, my mom and stepdad got 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??. I finally got the hang of it and was riding around the circle, 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. It was a parked car that I didn’t even see, so I just rammed into it, fell off my bike, and started crying, thinking, “this must be how bugs feel”. Like they’re flying around living life and then SPLAT. Looking back, that was my first existential crisis.