Why It Sucks To Exist As a Housefly

Añadido: 2026-05-10

[00:00:00]You wake up inside something warm, soft, wet, rotting. You do not know what it is. You do not know what you are. You only know that everything around you is food. Not good food, not clean food, not anything a creature with self-respect would choose, but you do not have self-respect yet. You do not even have legs. You are a tiny white maggot buried inside a pile of garbage eating your way through the first home you will ever know, and somehow this is the safest part of your life. Because right now you are disgusting, but you are hidden. Skip forward. You were never meant to be loved. Your mother landed here because the smell told her this place was perfect. To anything else, it smelled like something had gone terribly wrong.

[00:00:43]To her, it smelled like a nursery. She walked across the rotting surface with her tiny feet, tasted it with her body, and decided, "Yes, this is where my children belong." Then she left. No bedtime, no warning, no touching, little goodbye. Just eggs in filth and then wings in the distance. A few hours later you hatched, and the first lesson of being a house fly was simple. If it smells horrible, move toward it.

[00:01:08]>> [music] >> That is not a joke. That is your compass. Rotting fruit, old meat, trash juice, animal waste, a forgotten sandwich under a table. To humans, these are signs of failure. To you, they are the map of the world. You eat and eat.

[00:01:23]You have no teeth, no plan, no personality, just a soft [music] body and a mouth built for turning decay into more of you. You do not chew, you scrape. You absorb. You tunnel through your own food surrounded by brothers and sisters doing the exact same [music] thing. If a human saw you now, they would make a noise they did not know they could make, but down here nobody is judging you. Down here everyone is horrible, and that is almost peaceful.

[00:01:48]Skip forward. Your body changes. Not slowly, in a beautiful magical way. It just gives up being a worm and starts rebuilding itself in a hard little case.

[00:01:57]You become a pupa. You cannot crawl away. You cannot eat. You cannot defend yourself. You are basically a tiny living seed full of instructions.

[00:02:05]Outside, the trash shifts. Something heavy moves nearby. A bird lands. A beetle crawls through the pile. A human lifts the garbage bag and ties it shut.

[00:02:15]For a moment, your entire universe swings. You are thrown into darkness.

[00:02:19]You do not know that you are inside a bag. [music] You do not know that the bag is inside a bin. You do not know that the bin is outside a house. You only know that the world keeps moving and you cannot move with it. Then, one day, the case splits. You crawl out different. You have legs now, wings, huge eyes, a soft body that hardens in the air. And for the first time, the world is not something you crawl through. It is something you can fly over. This should feel like freedom. It does not because the second you become a fly, almost everything becomes your enemy. Skip forward. You test your wings. The air catches you wrong. You slam into the side of the bin. You try again. You rise. You wobble. You turn too sharply and hit a wall. Nobody teaches you. No one explains flight.

[00:03:06]Your body simply says, "Go." And then you go badly until you go slightly less badly. But soon, something clicks. Your wings beat too fast for humans to understand as normal movement. Your body lifts, drops, turns, stops. You become a tiny mistake with wings and your eyes see almost everything. Not clearly like a human. Not beautifully, but everywhere. A thousand little fragments of the world arrive at once. Light, motion, edges, shadows, a hand moving across a room, a newspaper lifting from a table, a rolled-up magazine coming down from above. You do not know what a magazine is. You only know that large flat things mean death. So, you move.

[00:03:47]Before the strike lands, you are already gone. A human stares at the empty spot and says, [music] "How did it know?" You just survived faster than they could be angry. Skip forward. You are hungry again. Of course you are, but being a housefly means food is complicated. You cannot bite a piece of bread. You cannot take a clean little mouthful and leave.

[00:04:08]Your mouth is a sponge, a straw, a problem. So, when you find food, you have to make it worse before you can eat it. You land on a crumb, a perfect human crumb, dry, solid, useless. So, you do what your body is built to do. You spit on it. A little liquid comes out. It softens the food, breaks it down, turns it into something you can suck back up.

[00:04:29]This is normal for you. This is horrifying for everyone else. And then, you rub your hands together. Not because you're plotting, not because you're evil, because your feet are dirty, and your feet are how you taste the world.

[00:04:41]Everywhere you land, you are reading the surface. Sugar, rot, salt, grease, waste, skin, food. You walk across a window, nothing. You walk across a tape, maybe. You walk across a banana peel, good. You walk across something that should never be mentioned near food, also good. Then you walk across the food. This is why they hate you. Not because you are loud, not because you are ugly, because you carry every place you have ever been. Skip forward. You make it inside a house. This is either the best thing that has ever happened to you or the beginning of the end. There is food here, warmth, light, crumbs, open cups, fruit bowls, trash bins with lids that do not fully close. To you, this is paradise. To the humans, you are a home invasion with wings. You land on the wall. A human sees you. Everything changes. The room goes quiet. Their eyes lock onto you. You take one step, they take one step, you take another. They slowly reach for a shoe. You do not understand shoes, but every part of your body understands danger. They swing. You launch upward. The shoe hits the wall so hard, the human hurts their own hand.

[00:05:45]You land on the ceiling, upside down, perfectly calm. This is one of the few advantages you have. Gravity is more of a suggestion to you. Your feet have tiny sticky pads and claws, and suddenly the ceiling is just another floor. The human looks up. You look down. For one beautiful second, you are winning. Then they bring out the spray. Skip forward.

[00:06:06]The air changes. You feel something sharp before you understand it. A mist, a smell, a cloud that should not be there. You fly. Fast, not graceful, not planned, just away. The droplets spread through the room behind you, falling onto the wall, the table, the floor. You land near the window. The outside is right there. Sunlight, air, freedom. You throw yourself at it and hit invisible solid sky, glass. You do not understand glass. No fly truly understands glass.

[00:06:36]You can see the world beyond it. So, your body says go there. You hit it again, and again, and again. Each time the outside does not get closer. Behind you, the room still smells wrong. Ahead of you, the world is open but impossible. This is one of the great tragedies of your species. You can dodge a hand, you can fly upside-down, you can taste sugar with your feet, but a window can defeat your entire brain.

[00:07:01]Skip forward. You survive the spray.

[00:07:03][music] Somehow, you find a gap. A door opens.

[00:07:06]Wind moves. You escape into the open air like a tiny criminal leaving a prison.

[00:07:10]Outside, life is not easier. It is just bigger. Spiders wait in corners. Birds watch from fences. Frogs sit near wet places with mouths that open faster than your whole life. Even other insects are a problem. Dragonflies are not just flying near you, they are hunting. And compared to them, you are a badly made paper airplane with opinions. So, you keep moving. Land, taste, lift, dodge, repeat. Your whole life becomes a series of almost getting destroyed. A hand, a beak, a web, a spray, a window, a rolled-up menu, a car windshield, a cup of juice you fall into and almost drown in because it smelled too good to ignore. This is the curse of being you.

[00:07:53]Every good smell is a trap. Every meal is a crime scene. Every safe place becomes dangerous the moment someone notices you. Skip forward. You are older now, not old in a wise way. House flies do not get wise. You have been alive for days, maybe weeks. That is enough. Your wings are not perfect anymore. Your legs clean themselves more often. Your body is slower to lift. You still move fast, but not like before. The world has hit you too many times. You land on a windowsill. There are tiny dead flies there. You do not understand what that means. Or maybe you do, in the small way a fly understands anything. They came to the light. They saw outside. They tried to [music] reach it. And then they stopped. You walk over them because there is dust nearby that might be food.

[00:08:37]This is not disrespect. This is just how little time you have. Somewhere a bowl of fruit is softening. Somewhere a trash lid is open. Somewhere another human is about to say, "Where did this fly come from?" The answer is always somewhere worse than they want to imagine. Skip forward. You find a kitchen. Warm, bright, dangerous. A plate sits on the counter. A tiny smear of sauce waits near the edge. You land. Perfect. You taste it with your feet. Salt, sugar, fat. Everything in you says yes. For 1 second, life makes sense. Then a shadow covers you. A hand, fast, too fast this time. Your wings start before your thoughts do. Your legs push, your body lifts, but age takes one tiny piece of timing from you. Just one. The hand hits the counter. The world becomes pressure, then nothing. No grand ending. No lesson. No heroic last flight. Just a tiny body on a kitchen counter next to a spot of sauce that was almost worth it.

[00:09:35]The human wipes the counter. The room goes quiet, and somewhere outside, in something warm and wet and rotting, another egg begins to open. Another tiny white body wakes up with no legs, no eyes, and no idea what it is. It does not know about windows. It does not know about spiders. It does not know about the shoe, the spray, the glass, the kitchen, the hand. It only knows the first law of being a housefly. If it smells horrible, move toward it.