In Grade 8, my art teacher told the class existentialists believed there was "more to life than work". An over-simplification? Yes, but it hit my 13-year-old soul harder than The Bridge to Terabithia and the knowledge River Phoenix would never love me. 

"But there is, right, I mean there is more to life than that?" my brain hummed. The very IDEA  the future of my existence could be contained into one, grey 9-5 blob chilled me. The idea of sameness seemed equal to The Nothing we all fear - to steal liberally from another hallmark of my childhood - The Neverending Story.