Once upon a time, there were two colored hearts. The pink heart and the blue heart. They both started off as strangers, but as their circle of friends grew, they found themselves getting pulled to one another. Other shapes kept pushing them together until, one day, they both realized that they've grown feelings for each other. So everyday, the pink heart kept asking the other shapes what it meant for it to grow a centimeter and beat a loud thump each day. Meanwhile, the blue heart bottled up what it actually felt. Time passed, shapes grew and found their mates, tangents met, and seasons aligned. The pink heart and the blue heart each went and lived their separate lives. Reminiscing a love of what could have been if feelings were just shared. If fear wasn't a variable. Unfortunately, they were parallel lines. The blue heart, filled with regret, could only hope, "If only we were perpendicular lines, because a love that is 90 degrees is perfect."

Walking endlessly in a path filled with confusion, humanity begets what it’s like to be truly alive. Being born human is a double-edged sword; a curse and a blessing. We are truly selfish creatures with insatiable desire for more and yet less. We want things to be simpler but try to achieve them through complicated means. We are paradoxical beings and although it may seem quite negating, we are blessed. Our minds have ceaseless wanders, we are able to create and nurture - something quite fantastical and yet realistic. We learn to love just as we learn to hate. Our expressiveness often leads to an overbearing state of paranoia. Humanity are like the gods without their perfection - the vulnerable and weak side. It could seem quite unfair, but our vulnerability is what makes us strong - what makes us irreplaceable.

Humanity are quite the perplexing creatures. Every generation, different problems arise with different social initiations. We take pride in what the majority agrees upon and build an empire out of it, where if one brick doesn’t suit the rest, one becomes Omelas’ child and target of crude remarks. Humanity can be truly ugly. Their dark side often surfaces when their emotions are left in haze. They are considered blessed children but nurture their inner demons as they grow. It is truly painful to be a human person, one with increased self-awareness, one who has seen the darkest hours the moment they are thrown into this wretched world. Humanity are doomed by their own demons who marvel in their agony.

It is quite an interesting thing, being human that is. It is painfully pleasurable. Humans are masochistic players of a story that has different versions and sides to it, we all differ in our point of view. Yet, being human is beautiful and beautiful things are short-lived. Nonetheless, we are able to experience what it’s like to grow up and be watered with different emotions. We are able to experience things in our most conscious state. We are able to experience what it’s like to “understand.” Most of all, once we have experienced it all in its glory, we are able to experience death in its truest form. Though it may be different for everyone, we all share the same fates of dying and meeting in the afterlife. Our souls become entangled to one another and we learn that we would always be connected, because, as humans, we will always come together as each other’s companions.

It is truly beautiful, humans that is. Humans are what makes this world not-so-lonely. Although, we have also caused the unrest that is happening all throughout the world. Which brings us back to our point of humanity being double-edged swords. Truly marvelous creatures. Yet, our beauty shan’t last. What was all our life’s worth of prancing and dancing? If we were truly such blessed children and messengers of love to this empty world then our death shall hopefully be appeased by His Majesty, the King, as we continuously wander for our world’s purpose.

She was a beautiful maiden. Fair, elegant, and wise. Everybody wanted her for their own but she was out of grasp. A whirlwind of freedom, all eyes in awe. She danced among the flowers as if they were her grooms. She was magnificent in all her beauty, but no one could please her. She wasn’t happy. She was irritated, annoyed, and upset – she huffed and puffed, what could please this beauty, they asked. Until the day she breathed her last, what was all her life’s worth? Dancing and prancing – living in the moment, only to end up in death’s bed. What a poor butterfly, your beauty shan’t last – if only you were appeased by His Majesty, the king.