oh, we egotistical weaklings

"oh, we egotistical weaklings"

( a memoir of a body who's forgotten its death )

I'll never stop my wonderings to why do I always ever so doggedly seeking out the shades of grey in my normally carved days, why do I feel truly reluctant to pop out of the soap bubble right in front of my eyes, right on my nose. I put my palm there, and all I need to do is just a slight pressure towards, but why can't I ever do it, I know it's anything but a guarantee to lost, it is a lifetime worth chance, though it is an absolute scare, it is the only answer to all my 'hows'.

Then, lastly, why do I feel like I'm all coverd up in a sense of security, of warmth, of assurane, when if I were to raise my head and try to grasp what's around, water, water, water, water is all I could see in the four directions.

Humans often ask 'why's', without a slight concern to ask 'how'

I believe, that is one of the reflections towards the human ego.

We are living beings, living means alive, and alive means existence. And I guess, the reason for our default questionings, is that we demand the solidity of existence. For our true identitiy is as a creature of life, where the very material of that identity itself is our existence, proof that we are here, it's not just a game of simulation, we demand absolute proof for the validation towards feet touching the ground, hands reaching for tree leaves, skin sensing the wafting air, ear capturing noises of white and solid. 

A voice inside all of us, reverberates, from a wall to another, consistently, persistently, doggedly, in eternity, "I demand to the human berore me, to prove all the realistic bodily sensations, prove that the 'I' is am me"

for the thought that if all of these visions, grounded shapes, inspite of all the brutality and cruelity I've seen and felt as a catalogue of scary nightmares, were just one huge green screen, is terrifying. unavoidable and unbearable. 

Thus, it's why we throw whys to the road, hoping for one in a sea of passerbyes collect and accept, write and answer, a never ending of whys, just this one right before i hit the dot.

We want reasons to feel alive, so that each and every step I'll take towards the end of me, of time, would be acted and done actively, purposively.

without it all,

we are of lifeless, of physical matter such bones and flesh

we are of no superiority to other breathings

we are truly one devastatingly weak creature, 

and most of all in denial, which we have a need of