What is of our lives?

As I sat thinking in the early hours of the 22nd of October, my heart raced of our definitions, emotions and what our own feelings allow us to feel as important. Shallow is our feelings of mutual understanding, that we are simply fooled by the idea of a nation, or better yet, religion, some, many centuries before I was born, were fooled by the pigmentation of skin. So much so that for the worth part of human existence, it(whatever people want to identify as an ingroup), meant(means, we’re still doing it) living, dying or whatever humans allow others like themselves go through because they think they are different.

Is this what we were chosen to be born into?

Is this the great birth and life. we are supposed to be thankful for? To be born into world so flawed, that the rules have been set in paper with signs(money and law if you don’t get it), to so prove how much our lives are worth?

Don’t get me wrong, life is worth living, life is a wonderous adventure that even when we want to die, we still want to live, we just wish the situation to be somewhat, somewhere different. And that’s the thing, Why is it we are doomed to the lives we have been chosen for, just because people decided the situation?

I often think how about 6 decades ago, my grandmother was born into a world that told her that educating her isn’t worth it, or that her worth as a woman was in if she can attract a well of man who could provide for her every need, that is after he pays my great-grandfather a fee for raising this wonderful woman called my grandmother.

It is absurd that we centralise ourselves in issues that we selfishly deem important, and 200 years later, people realise these were selfish decisions that probably should be changed. Why is it that after millennia of existence as a species, we human beings are as drawn to being the alpha as those whom were first unto this world, with the strongest trampling on the weak, and so enslaved to servitude of the strong?

Are our lives only worth when we can explicitly show power that threatens, or is adored by others? Thinking about the animal world, where this is poignantly obvious, are humans any better than the beasts we imprison in the zoos that litter the world? I speak so, because how many wars, laws, attacks and many other actions have gotten us to this point as a specie and somehow, those without the means of power(again I mean money) are worth it?

How much is my life worth if I cannot extravagantly show it to the world? At one time, being black was a form of wealth. If you had enough black people to serve you, you were as wealthy as Bill Gates(or so I hope).

What is of our lives, if each and everything that so defines our existences means nothing to someone who holds more power? What is stopping the world from being destroyed by those who hold the greatest of power? Laws? Is there no corruption that so proves that law is only as much as those who have the “power” to enforce it?

What is of our lives? Honestly? Why were we born, if someone, who so damn wills it, can hurt us a million times more, make our very existence excruciatingly not worthwhile?

I want you to sit and think this from a perspective of a higher being or someone not from this planet?

Of the many laws that all these organisations, countries, people and so on, have… which of them, do not so point what savages we are as human beings? The Police are apparently people who are supposed to protect us from ourselves? Who will then protect us from the police? The government is said to be the will of the people, but the people whose will it is, is but those who agree in unison… and we got Hitler, we got colonialism, slavery, racism, religion, we got Trump, but we also got Mandela, and Obama, Lincoln, Mugabe and the rest. What of education? What is it? What is of this system that we are born under, that makes people think, it is fair?

What is the value of our life? To live? Yea well, on who’s will? Who so says we live? What of then that someone says we shouldn’t?

What of our lives allows us to live, whilst others die, not because they chose it, but because someone else wills it?

If race decides who lives. or religion, or gender, or education, country of birth, moments of looking like you afford what you say is yours, or whether or not you love someone no more, what decides who dies? And of those that decides that, what makes their lives any more worthy to live?

What of our lives? What of anyone’s life? What of my life? Just pray that tomorrow… it isn’t yours.