Solutions and Other Problems

by Allie Brosh

That’s the scary thing about decisions: you don’t know what they are when you’re making them.

The only thing worse than getting trapped in the same bucket nineteen times is surrender.

For the sake of trust building, the third chapter will follow the second. But then we will jump directly to chapter five, do you understand? No chapter four. Why? Because sometimes things don’t go like they should. This is an inescapable property of reality, which we all must learn to accept. There just isn’t enough power in the universe for everybody to have all of it.

The spider was supposed to be Richard. I hadn’t figured out how many arms and legs people are supposed to have yet, so I just put a whole bunch on there and hoped it was enough. I didn’t want him to feel offended because I shortchanged him on legs.

There’s no Hallmark card for “Sorry we accused you of being a molester; we didn’t realize our kid was sneaking into your house and stealing your spoons and animals and watching you while you sleep. We’re really, really sorry.”

Once upon a time, I saw four guys walking a dog across Las Vegas Boulevard. The dog, which was wearing a costume, was looking around like WHAT IS GOING ON—ARE WE OKAY—THIS IS THE MOST THINGS I HAVE EVER SEEN.

I’m a tragic, greedy animal with too many dreams to feel satisfied by reality.

Anger is not a graceful emotion. I’ve never gotten mad and been like, I’m glad I behaved like that!

When you can explain things to people who are willing to listen to you explain them, it is extremely difficult to resist fully and brutally explaining them. It feels good to explain them—like maybe you’re getting somewhere. Like maybe, if you can just… really explain them, the experiences will realize you’re catching on and stop bothering you.

Sometimes all you can really do is keep moving and hope you end up somewhere that makes sense.

I do not know what I am doing at all, but I’m trying REALLY hard. And trying really hard when you don’t know what you’re doing just happens to be the exact recipe for acting like a fuckin’ weirdo.

Adopting a cat is an entirely different process from adopting a dog. With dogs, it’s all very regimented. Visitation hours and stuff. With cats, they’re like, “What do you want? Cats?” You say yeah, and they say, “Great. Grab however many you want—they’re strewn throughout the building.”

I’m two. The friend I’m trying to make is a sardine. It’s dead, so right from the beginning, things aren’t going well.

Because that’s intimacy, Buckaroos. Somebody who understands exactly how weird you are, and you understand exactly how weird they are, and you’re in a sort of mutually beneficial hostage situation.

Experiencing real loneliness for the first time is like realizing the only thing you’ve ever loved is your home planet after migrating to the moon.