Who Died and Made Me Human

Given a choice would you choose differently? That is if you ever had a choice...

Why??? It’s a never failing question to everything that makes your world stop spinning, for maybe a second. I always wondered why I had to be human. I would have liked to be something else, but being something else seems still as insignificant as this shell, this given form.

Why even ask why??? According to Spinoza, we are but appendages to nature, to God, that everything moves according to what rules govern our nature, that we were free, but had no free will. then why do I, he, us, have to figure out what we are, our purpose, our very existence in this polluted, forsaken rock we call Earth, If that's what it's even suppose to be called. Figuring out this form shouldn’t even matter in the whole larger scale of things. We can’t even solve lives simplest questions.

Why do I even exist and in that case do I even??? At times this all seems like some grand dream, some written fantasy drawn from some sick notion of the brain. How I wish it could be. Would certainly make things easier, at least for me, that is. To be, well, such that one was only made of ideas, thought, that would probably the ideal form to take but would that be a form at all?

Why now??? Does this mean that it's time to face it or just some random act of forces beyond ones control? Do I even have to face it? Time, what is it? This continuity? All lives existing at once and all that theoretical fuzziness? Temporal mechanics and paradoxes, they don’t make much sense. But if this form must ever pass, will I be taking another or did I never really die? Do millions of me, branching out in every universe that comes sticking itself to my existence continue on?

Why, oh, why??? A train passes on the rails at the intersection of the road, you remember to stop to avoid getting hit by it, then it passes and you continue on oblivious to the fact that the train hitting your car may have had significance to somebody else’s. I await my train, if I let it pass; we'll ask another "why" when it gets its ugly metal butt here.