Colour UnBound

It's really annoying...

I have all these things that I think about, and yet, I can't put them into words.

It's more of an understanding.

But if someone asks my opinion, I'm sure I could think of something to say, to explain my contemplations.

Just, I suck at writing, so... yeah...

But hey, I'm just the fat, ugly one. No one cares to ask what I think.

Or if I do think of something to say, it's too late to bring the topic up. Don't want to go hurting their feelings, eh? Don't want to make them remember the pain.

Fuck, humans' are fragile. It annoys me sometimes, how I can't help, because it's past due time to. Or.

But Hell, if everyone could understand each other to that degree, would we still have secrets?

Or are having secrets really that important?

Who knows.

We are who we are. Humans, are who we are. What makes us up, is that which is around us, and that which is inside us. We are affected by how we think, and we are affected by how others think.

We often smile to conceal our sadness, but why not the other way around? Why not frown, to conceal our joy?

We as humans have been raised to attach certain values to everything. We think joy is a good thing. We think sadness is a bad thing. We think death is a bad thing. We think some things are pleasure, whilst other things are pain. Pleasure, apparently, equals good; and Pain, apparently, equals bad. We think, therefore we are.

But what if we were raised with different, altogether opposite values? If the Aztecs or Incas had conquered the world, instead of Europeans, would not human sacrifice be seen as a mark of being human of the highest order?

All these ifs and buts, the questions we humans ask, are useless. The way history has occurred, none can change it. The way humans have developed, none can change it. Questions are useless. However, to question is to understand. Have we truly understood, as a human race?

We constantly ask ourselves, what is the meaning of life? None know. Or is there even one?

Those who don't know, speak. Those who do know, don't speak.

All these ideals, and values. Ever changing.

What is truth? What is? What was? What will be?

Who are we? Who were we? Who will we be?

What is love? What is hate?

Death is inevitable. In death, we are the same. Humans recognise death as a negative thing. Why? We try to escape death, but all efforts to date, have only prolonged life, and pain. And pleasure. And all else that life brings to us, in our mortal bodies.

What can truly transcend time, other than time itself? We appoint an imaginary figure to give us hope, when really, it is faith in this figure that allows us to subconsciously have faith in ourselves. We think someone looks after us, which is why it's alright to go ahead with whatever we wish. How pathetic. We as humans, should only need to look inside ourselves to find the strength to carry on.

Or maybe there is an all-powerful might overlooking our progress. Quite possibly, our lives are determined; fated, by this greater being. What we call destiny, just contradicts all that we call coincidence. It was meant to be. It was not meant to be. They deserved it. They did not deserve it. These words mean nothing. What's past, is past.

Or do they mean something? We can't find a reason for such, tragedies, or miracles, so we blame, or praise, that which controls our lives; humans' lives. But what or whom holds that power? The power to control is absolutely unimaginable, unfathomable to the finite minds we as humans retain as our one true strength over the animal kingdom.

Instinct. Humans have seemed to lost that sixth sense that other animals have been able to keep. That is their strength over us. We may have found ways to get around that loss, like the study of meteorology, but the truth is that we've lost it. Somewhere in the chain of evolution, we've lost what it means to be an animal. Apparently, we're humans now.

Age constitutes neither maturity nor wisdom.

Wisdom. To be wise, is to understand. To be truly wise, that is unattainable. Experience, and logical thought makes up wisdom. But what happens when we lose all that, when we start forgetting, when we start going insane?

That's what marriage, and the ideals of love were invented for; so that when we lose all reason, we don't lose it alone. So that when we lose all else, we don't lose the reason we live for; the love of our life.

Maturity. Such an overused word. But what other word can we use to express that one notion of being able to think more logically than a child? What other word can we use to express that we've more years to back our knowledge of the world? Age.

Words, words and more words. Enough. Language, physical or verbal, is too sloppy, too inconsequential a medium to convey our thoughts. It is the only way though, without needing to use brain surgery.

Existentialism. Fuck off. I question not my existence, nor the notion of my existence. I question nothing, and I question all. Why apply a word to it?

This is unfinished business.