A funny thing happened to us humans when we established ourselves at the top of the evolutionary ladder: We developed a severe case of species anxiety.
“What,” we started to wonder, “makes us so special that we should come to occupy the position of apex animal? Is it our evolved brains? Our opposable thumbs? Why are we here?” These are the sort of existential questions with which other species are mercifully unburdened. We, however, are not so lucky. As this planet’s reigning life form, we’ve created culture, philosophy, and technological wonders, all while wondering whether ours was a unique case of evolutionary dominance, or if we are simply placeholders until another species comes of age.
Enter: The Ape
As our nearest cladistic cousin, apes occupy a unique place in the human psyche: They are familiar enough that we can easily establish a sense of biological kinship, while simultaneously foreign enough to hint at some arcane truth to which we, in our evolutionary rush to the top, are no longer privy. It is a dynamic that is equal parts fascinating and frustrating, propelling us to examine not only our own species, but our nearest proximal ones, and the thin Darwinian membrane which separates us. We obsess over that narrow line, especially when it becomes porous or undefined, indignant at the thought of descending from a common simian forefather, laughing when apes act “just like us,” and recently, perplexed by the ethical dilemmas of situating non-humans in our evolving notions of ethics and rights.
Exploring that liminal space between humans and our evolutionary next-of-kin is a way to contextualize, and even alleviate, some of our uniquely species-related anxiety. And of all the ways we do so, perhaps none is as uniquely human as the trope of the “smart ape;” creatures which, across books, films, and folklore, look like them, but act like us. Stories about talking chimps, philosophical gorillas, and literary-minded orangutans do more than just present us with amusing characters. Whether intentionally or not, they help us consider what it means to truly be human in the face of these fictional imposters. By forcing an evolutionary leap onto our nearest biological relatives, merrily blurring the lines that ostensibly separate “us” from “them,” we can, perhaps, clarify what makes us “us” in the first place.
What follows is an overview—by no means comprehensive—of some of the most important brainy apes our species has managed to invent. Some apes on the list will be immediately recognizable, others, perhaps a bit more obscure. Each ape, however, has something unique to contribute to our own species’ ongoing interrogation of the features we jealously guard as uniquely our own.
So put those evolved frontal lobes to good use, take those opposable thumbs, and click through to see some of the smartest apes our all-too-human minds have created.
Wiman hiding her face behind a bunch of cashCanva
A mansion and its reflection in the swimming poolCanva
Salzburg at nightCanva
Fancy homeCanva
Happy volunteersCanva
Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
Juicy subject matter
Giphy from The Blacklist.
We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.