Humanbeings are, by nature, profoundly social creatures. And with that nature, we are drawn to the only species capable of understanding and replicating what we do... that is, none other than the human itself.
Time and time again, we seek validation, comfort, and the sense that we are not alone. That eerie, dense feeling that could only be alleviated through interaction with another.
'But tell me'—what truly are humans, that we are built around legacy, offspring, and a hierarchy rooted in a false sense of inferiority to one another, simply because it has been said so?! What makes us hesitate in the face of power, when in the end, that power is but an illusion?!
Oh, how interesting… And oh, I wonder… How can I escape from this hand that has been pulling at me since the moment I was born?
We are but a small thing in a vast world. Yet what outshines our tiny figure in the face of undeniable darkness are the hopes, the hobbies, and the absolute resolve that cannot falter.
Sometimes, I wonder—this sticky, elusive material we cannot grasp in our consciousness, the thing that causes us to hold on...
Is it this that keeps our will from breaking?
Friends, family, connections—whatever they may be. What could possibly be holding us together?
The will of death and the spectacle of life—complete opposites, yet so strangely connected and orderly.
Words will never truly convince you... so then, why must we keep meeting?