Latest Existential Crises Articles
The book ends predictably, comfortably, in a manner undeserving of most adjectives due to its innate ‘nothingness’: with a final illustration that is simply a white page, “Where is Waldo Now?” printed in small black lettering at the bottom.
Never again am I going home. Having my mom corner me with questions about my sexuality, and whether I’d thought about trying ‘Zumba’ didn’t help. At least my brother understands me. It’s his birthday this month, isn’t it? This year, I’m going to find him the perfect gift, instead of those iTunes gift cards I usually buy. Wait — his birthday was last month! Why do I keep doing this?!