We Are the Ants

by Shaun David Hutchinson

as far as I’m concerned, life is like a game of Whose Line Is It Anyway? Everything’s made up, and the points don’t matter.

“Artists have to learn how to paint what’s in the mirror, even if what they see is a total shit show.” He gave in and scooped up the last bite of potpie. “If you can’t paint yourself honestly, everything else you paint will be a lie too.”

The future destroys the past destroys the future.

He didn’t kill himself because of a single overwhelming problem; he died from a thousand tiny wounds.

“We’re not words, Henry, we’re people. Words are how others define us, but we can define ourselves any way we choose.”

Now I can be whoever I want, and I’m still struggling to figure out who that is, but the point is that the choice belongs to me.”

Maybe that’s why you’re perfect for each other.” “Do you think it could last?” “Who cares?”

But you can’t live in the past; you can only visit.

As human beings, we seek meaning in everything. We’re so good at discovering patterns that we see them where they don’t exist.

We may not get to choose how we die, but we can choose how we live. The universe may forget us, but it doesn’t matter. Because we are the ants, and we’ll keep marching on.