People will always be people. no matter how many layers of rose glass we put
between us and them, they will always be people.
I once thought that a person was some divine being,
created through a chance incredibly small.
the fact that their parents met, and their parents and so on and so forth…
I found comfort in that.
Perhaps I could be more as I appeared as well.
That I had some divine right to exist and everything around me was warped on some level,
even if I couldn’t see it, I knew it because I made it so.
But as time goes on you see them for what they are.
A completely coincidental happenstance,
two cells that multiplied faster than the could die.
A brain encased in carbon and hydrogen and dumb atoms too small to think about.
I use to think people were made of stardust,
that people could chance and deep down everyone had a heart of gold distorted by
their own false perceptions.
We’re all just dumb animals floating on a giant rock thinking we are self aware
. The truth is nothing gets smaller than what we are now, I am very small,
and sometimes I feel it.