About the universe in our heads

The more I learn, the more I realize how small we are.

The world’s a mess. It really is, and it’s sad. But if I think about it, it’s also kind of absurd. There are millions of galaxies we haven’t even seen yet. Who knows if this is the only universe out there. Who knows how many black holes are just floating somewhere, swallowing light. Heck, we don’t even know what the last number is.

Yet somehow, humans feel so powerful. Arrogant, honestly. Like, who gave us the right to destroy this planet? To start wars, to hurt each other, to decide who deserves to live or not. I see world leaders make these insane decisions on TV, like they’re playing some kind of game, and I’m just sitting there thinking—who are we to do all that? Who are we to speak for an entire planet, to pollute oceans, burn forests, and act like we own everything? I just don’t get it. It’s crazy.

And yet, on the flip side, humans are kind of incredible. One day I’m watching a documentary where people are calling out how doomed the planet is, and the next I’m watching something about galaxies, and it blows my mind. I feel so tiny, but then I learn how humans actually managed to discover things like the Einstein Ring. We literally figured out how to see light bending through space, using math. Math! That’s insane.

Then I saw a brain surgery video, and the neurosurgeon was literally identifying neurons one by one, tracing thoughts through wires. And I just sat there thinking, how? How are humans capable of that level of precision and creativity and destruction at the same time?

It’s wild. Because we all share basically the same brain structure. Same pieces, same chemistry, just wired a little differently. And somehow, that tiny difference decides whether someone becomes a poet or a war criminal.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this, but it just fascinates me, how humans can be both the best and worst thing to ever happen to this planet. How we can build rockets and write symphonies and still somehow fail to be kind.

We’re all just small, confused creatures on a floating rock, pretending we understand what we’re doing.