Why? The question has been plaguing me for the better part of the past year. It has infected my brain with a need, an insane desire to know the answer. I cannot carry out my daily activities without applying the question. Why do people live and die? What is the purpose of life? Do I matter? It keeps me awake at night, mostly because it is not just one question; it so many questions, most of which we cannot answer. I wonder if our world is something planned; some things that we have discovered seem too strange to be a coincidence. Thinking about it has made me realize how superficial our knowledge is. Everything that is taught in schools is based on mere theories and opinions, even the things that we call “facts” may not be as corporal as we think. I want to know why education is so important to humans, why we have the will to survive, why we take a simple game to such extremes. I participate and believe in the activities that we think of as normal, yet I still ask the question, why? The question stimulates countless other questions: Is there a reason that our brains are programmed to have a longing for knowledge and the arts? Why do people have such strong emotions towards one another, such as love and hate? It doesn’t seem to benefit our society at all. Both love and hate have been the death of innumerable people. Sometimes I think that brains are more of a hindrance than anything else; they disturb and provoke us with questions that we will never be able to answer. But then again, I think: Why does it matter? Our earth is one of trillions, quadrillions of balls of matter, floating around in what we call “the Universe”. We don’t even know what it is. For all we know, our universe could be a speck of dust on the toenail of an alien creature.