And then, from somewhere deep and previously unknown, there sprang a reserve of fortitude and courage.

Or was it resignation?

Or fatalism?

Or nihilism?

Or perhaps I simply understood, from the darkest corner of my soul, that these pancakes couldn’t kill me because I was already dead…

Folks, I have no more desire to get through the rest of my life than I did to eat those pancakes.

But I ate them.

And the knowledge that I can keep going when all seems lost… that’s a great thing to acquire.

Eating thirty pancakes, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐