Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 11:40:03 GMT
The greatest question I've ever asked is "Why?"
Not "How?" as in "How'd this come to be?"
Or "When?" as in "When did this come into play?"
But "Why?"
Not "Who?" as in "Who put me here?"
Or "What?" as in "What did I do to deserve this?"
But "Why?"
See, I can take a microscope to every single moment of my life
And look into the very atoms that make up everything I've done
I can go even deeper and look into the chocolatey center of the dark matter of who I am
But I still ask "Why?"
Because nurture may exist but it's still the nature that divides us
Dictating how we react to the stimuli that forms us into who we are
There could be a hundred kids who all watched their parents get murdered and 99 of them will go into therapy
But still one of them will become Batman
Why?
Why if there's a God who truly loves us and put us here to love him back
Why do we even spend time on this wretched Earth?
Why doesn't he just birth us into his kingdom where we can choose to love him without watching our families die?
But more importantly, if there is a God who wants me to love him, then why did he make me an atheist?
Why did he make me unable to believe in him and why would he send me to hell for it?
I've often asked myself "Why?
Why do I do this?
Why do I continually degrade and berate myself for things that don't matter?
Why do I think that I don't belong in a world where I've created a person that looks at me like I'm a superhero?
Why do I keep a suicide note in my head that I rewrite every day?
And why does it always end up reading simply:
'To whom it may concern,
Fuck you'?"
See, I can explain why I do the things I do
Or why I react the way I react
Why I get mad when someone cuts me off in traffic
But no amount of rationalization can explain why I still to this day cannot stand the smell of honey roasted peanuts
Why I can't eat pork without wanting to vomit
Why I can't think happy thoughts without crying tears of sadness I like there's some hole in my stomach that has gone septic and the disease has travelled to heart and my brain
Or why I think that hugging is the most intimate feeling in the world and crave it at every moment yet still I don't like to be touched
I can tell you why the sky is blue
Or why water turns to ice and gasoline doesn't
I can tell you why a dog will eat it's own sick
Or why cats climb trees
I can tell you why a day is 24 hours
Or why there are 12 months
But I cannot for the life of me tell you why
I am
Not "How?" as in "How'd this come to be?"
Or "When?" as in "When did this come into play?"
But "Why?"
Not "Who?" as in "Who put me here?"
Or "What?" as in "What did I do to deserve this?"
But "Why?"
See, I can take a microscope to every single moment of my life
And look into the very atoms that make up everything I've done
I can go even deeper and look into the chocolatey center of the dark matter of who I am
But I still ask "Why?"
Because nurture may exist but it's still the nature that divides us
Dictating how we react to the stimuli that forms us into who we are
There could be a hundred kids who all watched their parents get murdered and 99 of them will go into therapy
But still one of them will become Batman
Why?
Why if there's a God who truly loves us and put us here to love him back
Why do we even spend time on this wretched Earth?
Why doesn't he just birth us into his kingdom where we can choose to love him without watching our families die?
But more importantly, if there is a God who wants me to love him, then why did he make me an atheist?
Why did he make me unable to believe in him and why would he send me to hell for it?
I've often asked myself "Why?
Why do I do this?
Why do I continually degrade and berate myself for things that don't matter?
Why do I think that I don't belong in a world where I've created a person that looks at me like I'm a superhero?
Why do I keep a suicide note in my head that I rewrite every day?
And why does it always end up reading simply:
'To whom it may concern,
Fuck you'?"
See, I can explain why I do the things I do
Or why I react the way I react
Why I get mad when someone cuts me off in traffic
But no amount of rationalization can explain why I still to this day cannot stand the smell of honey roasted peanuts
Why I can't eat pork without wanting to vomit
Why I can't think happy thoughts without crying tears of sadness I like there's some hole in my stomach that has gone septic and the disease has travelled to heart and my brain
Or why I think that hugging is the most intimate feeling in the world and crave it at every moment yet still I don't like to be touched
I can tell you why the sky is blue
Or why water turns to ice and gasoline doesn't
I can tell you why a dog will eat it's own sick
Or why cats climb trees
I can tell you why a day is 24 hours
Or why there are 12 months
But I cannot for the life of me tell you why
I am