When I envision the idea of an adult, my ego very stereotypically visualizes a scowling face weighted with the decisions and stress of the world, while nicely wrapped in business attire. I place my feet in their hypothetical shoes, and I’m instantly drained. The technicolor world dulls to a monochromatic screen, while butterflies and bubbles turn into smog and cartoonish scribbles of stress. A polluted reality created by polluted thoughts.