My friend showed me a video of a woman showing all the anatomical parts on a freshly removed brain that was donated by a cancer victim. To think that all our memories, emotions, thoughts, dreams, aspirations, skills, everything is in something so small and fragile..
I definitely couldn't have that job. The whole time watching it I couldn't stop thinking about who that person might have been. There's just so much information in that tiny little thing, immeasurable amounts of information. That was the entire essence of a human being, someone who was alive not too long ago, walking around and laughing and loving and dreaming. And it's inside of me. It IS me. That's what I look like. Everything I could ever imagine. All the jokes my friends have told me over the years. All the movie nights. All the games of bingo and pool and poker. All the kisses. All the music. All the nights laying on roofs looking at the stars, wondering what's out there. All the tears. All the dreams. All the anger. All the swing sets I've visited. All the cats I've pet. All the hands I've held. All the days of going to school. All the times I fell off my skateboard. All the songs my best friend sang to me. All the sleepovers. All the road trips. All the sketches I've drawn. All the sets of eyes I've looked into. All the nights I couldn't sleep. All the poems I've written. All the fights I've been in and witnessed. All the times I planted flowers. All the races. All the people I miss. All the trips to the gym. All the near death experiences. All the giggling children I've played with. All the mistakes. All the moments I felt truly alive.
All in a mushy blob that can fit in the hands of a stranger, holding my life and talking about it like it's an object.
It is an object.
Holy shit.
I should have known this was inevitable seeing as the only way I snapped out of the last existential crisis was forcing myself not to think about it.
But.
Just.
Holy shit.
No matter how many times this happens, I never get more used to it. It never gets less breathtaking.
We are all this, just this sack of meat, and somehow so aware and emotional and deep, and all I keep thinking in my head is just "woah what the fuck" and I can't stop crying. It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time and I don't know how to handle it.
