Realization on a school night

As I sat with the boiling water painting my back, I looked at my hands. We may be young. But we have been here forever.

We may skip and take drugs and wrench away from life and the world. But we are part of a cycle that is steeled against our human will. Look at your hands. What makes them up.?Skin, bones, blood. Molecules. You are made up of carbon and oxygen and hydrogen.

We are barely solid. Molecules stick together like brotherhoods, and it is the only reason we exist. But these are not new. These atoms come from what has been put into us. Our cereal. The meal your mother ate when you were yet to be born.

We are so alone, and yet we are made up of past lives. We really are each a reincarnated box of puzzle pieces. Grass, water, cows, people. We are all made of something that used to be another life. And one day, we will die. And our energy, and our very souls and lives and memories will go and become something else. And it is so fucking beautiful. Because it puts our life in perspective.

You have to be worth something, because you will one day help to create a blade of grass, a flower for a pretty girl, a child. Why do we worry so much about where we are going for college, or what kind of house we are going to get? Do we really appreciate the fact that there was such a slim chance of us being here? That one sperm and that one egg out of millions? Does it matter?

Yes. It does. Because it is a continual cycle that is enough to keep an entire universe going. When someone dies, they don't go somewhere. When she died, she didn't leave. She went out into everything.