This is the kind of game you play for 10 minutes, think to yourself "If this was all life was, I'd never want again." only to realize it has actually been 4 hours and it's now too late to go out and grab that burger you enjoy so much.

You sit there, realizing that you have food at home, and haphazardly slap together some bland white bread, nearly-rotten bologna, and stale american cheese for dinner. Your stomach's grumbling despite you knowing that the food you've prepared is horrifically substandard to the point where you're sure leaving it on the floor would attract no insects. In fact, the insects who would be attracted to such a miserable meal are months deep into a self-improvement program dedicated to impoverished, disenfranchised, and otherwise downtrodden insects. The knowledge of the bizarre intricacies sewn into everyday life for the insects we dare not think twice about as we notice a few underfoot comes to you all at once. You realize, then and there, as you're three bites deep into this ten bite large sandwich that you're not dreading these next seven bites as you once did the first three.

What surprises you is that those first three bites have come and gone with no negative aftertaste. The gloom you were so sure of feeling after routinely compiling your sandwich ingredients is lodged in the back of your psyche alongside your long forgotten, but ever present schoolyard memories of ladybugs and dew dancing around the grass around breakfastime. The beams of sunlight bounce off the drops of moisture as the stabbing sunspot in your eye blocks out your vision for a second or two, and the slight sting that accompanies your temporary inability to see--at least out of that one spot you've now grown fond of after having lost it--mixes with the sugary sand caked on your molars. Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, that bit of food left in your mouth, would normally disgust you and yet here you are hoping this final kiss from a simple meal lasts longer. Alas, the instinctive swallow pushes down that last glob of deliciousness until you're left sitting there, amongst the ladybugs and grass, unsure of when the first classroom bell will ring, hoping it never will.

And now you look down at the crumbs on your hands, the absent sandwich a reminder that all things eventually pass. You stare at your monitor, a purple and black cat wearing a green buckethat, a pink sweater, and blue pants stares back at you. It's smiling and holding up a fish. The last remnants of your sandwich wash around your mouth along with the water you sipped. Perhaps it's best to admit that the meal you just enjoyed is exactly what you just thought it was: enjoyable. Yesterday, you might've frustratingly choked the sandwich down along with the depressive and vitriolic thoughts that swim around when consuming something so disgustingly basic. But today, after having enjoyed your long WEBFISHING session, you realize the beauty and flavor of your go-to sandwich.

It's kind of like that.