Solutions and Other Problems

by Allie Brosh

Having to be personally responsible for maintaining justice in the world is distressing. It makes it seem like maybe there’s something wrong at the Universal Fairness and Balance Department. Like maybe the higher-ups have lost control and they need help.

But there was a tiny part of me that wasn’t ready. Just the faintest whisper of survival instinct. The survival equivalent of a piece of rice.

When you’re alone in a field, hiding under a plant because you’re scared of the moon, you just sort of instinctually recognize how sad it is. No matter how unsympathetic you are, you’d feel some degree of concern for the person who is in that situation.

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.

don’t know about death yet, but I can sense my friend isn’t doing as great as his max potential probably. He needs my help. The determination sets in across my face. By god, I am going to help this fish, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.

life doesn’t need a point. I mean, it can have one if you want. Go ahead—pick one. Whatever you want. Count all the rocks. Get faster at singing. Be as nice as possible. Grow 500 pumpkins and put them in a pile. But there’s nothing that requires life to have a point.

Sure, the interactions are pointless, but so is everything.