I've watched a fair amount of Bojack Horseman

 Riddled with pointless emotions, empty glances as the light betrays the eye, semi-broken promises and decades of dreamless existence, you grew old. You grew old with others, older than your grief, older than the dim divinity or solitude itself, older than the past that had ever melting butter and popsicles and blunt knives at the end of the day, you outgrew your lonely mother, now you bear a child who looks exactly like the loneliness you inherited, and will one day outgrow you into a dark tall tree cleverly reaching the moon - the unbroken knowledge of eternity resonating with every minute passing around you, a conspiracy to make people old, an unending grief with evermore stillness looming over your baby from the inception of the idea itself, and you grew old, years passed by and you grew old, with loneliness as your child, and it is quite evident to you by the end that memories falter, and the future does not exist, and in this terrifying world, all we have are the connections that we make.