As I drove down the road on a typical Sunday afternoon with my mother, something very unusual started to happen. Little bugs hit the windshield with such force, splattering upon impact. With further investigation, I came to the conclusion that these were not ordinary bugs, but love bugs, attached together in endless happiness. I sat motionless in the passenger’s seat and couldn’t help but wonder to myself if we were at all like these love bugs. So blissfully unaware, so caught up in adoration for one another that we neglected to see this big disaster hurling toward us at a tremendous speed. I wondered if they died happy, or suddenly became separated by such gusts of winds, left for the rest of infinity to be alone. I pondered if they ever lied for the other, ever made the other one cry, ever regretted something so deeply, or if any of those things even mattered as they shared their final moments together. It’s kind of a morbid feeling, in a way to think everything, not just humans, work at togetherness and try to grasp the concept for so long only to be torn apart by some obstruction in their path of destiny just as soon as they think they have every little thing about the other person figured out. We all figuratively just “hit the windshield.” Whether that is just giving up on someone completely on our own or being forced to do this because of outside causes does not matter. Everything will end, nothing is infinite; even infinity is not limitless; it lacks the ability to stop, forever stuck in an endless rotation no matter how desperately it seeks to get out. We all have our limits, our breaking points, our time when we, ourselves hit the windshield. We are all doomed to be love bugs, searching for our perfect partner, only for some larger cause to obstruct our perception of reality.