I, A Disgusting Insect, Woke Up This Morning As A Human And Now My Life Sucks

The insect, God’s perfect genus, is irreplaceable.

Courtesy of Pixabay

For a while, I was perfectly happy camping out on my leaf and occasionally pushing the dung of other like-minded members of my community, a rewarding form of face-to-ass networking. Then, one day, after some snot-nosed, entry-level young adult in the suburbs had an existential crisis about the meaning of his labor and his inability to provide for his family and subsequently woke up as large insect, the universe decided it needed equilibrium and made me shed my shell for a suit and tie and immediately start learning B2B sales and LLMs.

Firstly, I find the idea that a family of naked apes is so appalled at their feeble child waking up as a beautiful, glistening anthropod that they excommunicate him frankly insulting. In my swarm, my multiple legs, buzzing wings, and shiny 8-ball eyes were celebrated. Humans are so insecure about their appearance that their daily work outfits quite literally include a collar and noose, in some kind of sado-masochistic irony that’s evidently part of their work-until-we-die culture (unlike our work-until-we-die culture, which is more bearable since our lives are only approximately four weeks long, not eighty years). When us insects serve our supreme overlords and queens, we have a greater sense of pride and belonging in our own skin as well as significantly better benefits, including free lunch (eating other insects) and built-in healthcare (extra legs in case we lose one).

Plus, our work is more rewarding. Spreading diseases to larger mammals provides us with a sense of belonging and purpose greater than ourselves, whereas humans seem only interested in making money via scamming other humans. And recently, they’ve become obsessed with creating robots that replace the very menial labor they were doing previously, further raising into question the purpose of being a human at all in the first place. The insect, God’s perfect genus, is irreplaceable — I’d like to see ChatGPT make simple clerical errors and mistake bug zappers for the Holy Light of Eternity.

When I need to go somewhere to eat, I can simply scuttle to the nearest rotting animal, safe in the warm hug of my shell. Humans’ society is so inefficient that they need to get into man-made shells that all wait in stand-still traffic just to order a dead animal from a store, which comes encased in several layers of plastic that they then have to remove with their weak appendages. Furthermore, their sauces are completely unappealing — nothing like the sweet taste of my own vomit before diving into my pre-prepared roadkill feast.

After doing their eight required hours of labor a day, for which they see no personal benefit (increasing shareholder value is a big deal here, whatever that means), it seems the only thing humans enjoy with their precious remaining hours is watching other, digital humans humiliate themselves on small screens. For instance, Love Island would be totally irrelevant in a utopian bug society, since the second I find a mate, my head will be instantly ripped off and consumed (undoubtedly more enjoyable than going on more than one date with someone off of a dating app anyway).

I hope that the human who made the wish to experience being the perfect creation is having the time of his otherwise dull, slow-moving, and hollow life. I, for one, can’t wait until I turn back into a bug and can start eating shit in an enjoyable, literal manner; not the metaphorical way humans seem to be perfectly content repeating five days a week for the rest of their lives.