How ironic it is that we believe that we are invincible?

The world's population census is constantly increasing. We are born, just one mere digit-another statistic-another figure in a giant floating rock's calculator.

We are born and our entire existence solely depends on others. We are helpless.

As we age they instruct us to be wild.
"Have your own perceptions, your own ideas kids."
And so we live outside, and we create our own small kingdoms. Sticks are swords. Clubhouses are castles. We make friends and everyone has a role in the kingdom.

But then recess is over and they pick us off one by one; you're gone! Crammed into desk, they tear down our castles and tell us to forget everything that we have learned.
"We are about to teach you something new," they say, "You are not important, children."

They teach us their reasons to understanding the unexplainable. The clouds that we made animals and stories out of are actually visible masses of condensed water vapor floating in the atmosphere, typically high above the ground.

This isn't freedom anymore.

How do we make sure that we don't live average lives? How do we truly live? How are we anything but recycled stardust created to live life and then return to our original state? When the sun explodes and everything that we are living, all of humans, all of our humanity and lack of, all of our "history", and everything is gone, and there is no one to tell or even remember what humans were or who you are; what happens to all that we have lived?

Are we so naive that we believe we are important enough to be worth remembering? How are we so fragile, and yet we believe that we are invincible?

Oh, the irony that I am.