A box of new crayons! Now they’re all pointy, lined up in order, bright and perfect. Soon they’ll be a bunch of ground down, rounded, indistinguishable stumps, missing their wrappers and smudged with other colors. Sometimes life seems unbearably tragic.

The line uses a child’s small disappointment—new crayons inevitably becoming worn, mixed, and messy—as a comic miniature of entropy and loss. The “bright and perfect” order of the unused box stands for ideals of freshness, control, and potential; the “ground down… stumps” evoke time’s wear, the cost of use, and the way experience blurs neat categories. The humor comes from the disproportion between the trivial object and the grand conclusion (“life seems unbearably tragic”), a deadpan exaggeration that also contains a real insight: even ordinary pleasures carry the seed of their ending. It’s a wry meditation on impermanence framed through childhood material culture.