What more complicated machine is there than the human body? We have so many moving parts, so many things that just can't be replicated. We have emotions and feelings and preferences. Where do they come from? Why are they there?

In life there are so many questions. Questions that may forever remain unanswered. What do they all mean?

Within, we are all different. We all function in slightly different ways. All of us have something wrong somewhere- that's why we die, isn't it? We could look like the most healthy person in the oceans of time, yet still we perish. Proof that nothing is absolute.

The world always goes round and round. It never stops. It's not like us. It doesn't get tired. It doesn't need sleep. It just spins on its axis. Spins and never falters. It's what's on the Earth that makes all these things happen. All the plants providing oxygen, all the animals providing carbon dioxide. Then we have people.

People are terrible. We're all so.. complicated. We all think too much, we overcomplicate things. We think and then our minds break and we fall apart at the seams. We think and then little monsters burrow themselves into our head and tell us to think more. Tell us to doubt our thoughts, to think differently, to do things. We think.. and we hurt. We burn inside.

We have physical feelings that don't actually exist. Fires in the pits of our insides and ropes choking us up without really being there. Physical apparitions. Painful solace.

It's almost as if there's some invisible force pulling us apart, reaping our seams, pulling us away from what we care about.

We all have things we care about. We have standards. We get hurt when those standards aren't met. When we don't meet out own standards we light fires. We burn. Invisible wisps of smoke and steam fill our lungs and push air from our bodies. We poison ourselves. We've always poisoned ourselves. We've never done anything different. It's like we all have a death wish. That would make sense. We all know we're going to die. Why fight it?

Why do we hurt ourselves, anyways? What's the point? Why do we change if we know we'll fail and die just a little more inside? Why try at all?

It's because we get bored. We get bored and our heads hurt, so we risk hurting ourselves to stop the pain. But do we really notice when our heads hurt? Sometimes. I know I do. It's like someone's taken a knife to my temple. I don't think many other people notice, though. I think it's just the ones who are in tune with themselves. The ones who ask questions and challenge things the most. They're just trying to stop the pain any way they can. They're different because they have to be.

They know that subconsciously, but do they really know? I don't think many people truly know that. I think that we just go on because we're all different. Some of us are more different than others, though. Sometimes it hurts a little more than it should. Sometimes the knife swings faster and the tears fall hotter. For some people it's so much worse. For some people, rocks form in the pit of their stomach. Everything feels empty with nothing to fill it.

The world falls apart around some people, rather than being ghosts inside. It's like someone set a fire beneath their feet so that they'd burn and die. Sometimes it's real, tangible. Something you can touch.

There are scars. Burns. Bruises. Pain.

We always feel pain. Pain keeps us alive. It preserves us. We're afraid of pain, we run away from it. We hurt ourselves. We put ourselves through fear. Why? What are we really but complicated contradictions?

We're killing ourselves. We're always killing ourselves. For what's the point when we all die? We all die in the end, don't we? So we give up without knowing.

I wonder whether or not we could stop.