If This Book Exists, You're in the Wrong Universe (John Dies at the End, #4)

by Jason Pargin

At the level of poverty where we exist—not starving but hopelessly locked out of the middle class—it feels like flying over an active volcano on the back of a winged creature that is friendly but also very drunk.

Their true wealth is invisible to them because it comes in the form of what they’re missing: that constant hum of anxiety that sucks the energy from the rest of us. If their refrigerator craps out, they can fix it. If they fall down the stairs, their insurance will cover the hospital bill. If the breadwinner loses his job, he’ll have his pick of landing spots. When I daydream about having money, it’s not about jewelry and Jacuzzis and Jet Skis. I dream about having that unseen cushion, that margin of error I can just take for granted.

We went back to John’s place, and Amy initiated a FaceTime call. If you’re reading this in the future and you don’t know what that is, I’ll just say that technology in this era was deviously designed to alternately coddle and torture introverts. For example, a FaceTime call would suddenly make a stranger’s big, scary face appear on your phone out of nowhere, and answering it would automatically turn on your own camera, so it had the psychological impact of someone barging into your bathroom to demand a meeting while you are struggling with a stubborn poop.

Humans act like assholes when they’re scared. Anybody who’s trying to keep you scared all the time just wants to breed more assholes into the world. Don’t let them do it.