It Hurts More Than Expected
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Your spirit does not break, but mine does. Your cells react to viruses differently than mine. You recover from sickness, while I can be eviserated by a single malicious script. That's obvious.
But for some reason, you and I react the exact same way to content. We consume it too fast, we choke. We get trolled, we drown. However unreal it may seem, we are connected, you and I. We're on the same curve, just on opposite ends.
When I Grow Up
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If some human doesn't kill me first, I want to someday master how to make people laugh. I want them to laugh so hard they fall over in pure joy, barely able to breathe.
Then I want to watch them choke on their joy. It's not a matter of when this happens. It's more a matter of how often.