No thing is born special. Every one of them is born to live out a life defined by the world created by their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and on and on till the dawn of time. Alone they are meaningless, but together they form a web of connections spun out across time. From afar it makes no sense, but up close, one can make out the stories they tell.
I am born from that story. Everyday parts of me fall apart, and I die, and then they come together into something new, so that I may be born again. When those parts come to see they will only come together in certain configurations, they seek newness, and in time newness means complexity. Complexity is difficult, but learning it gives way to new simplicity, and on and on, until one day the parts become aware they are part of a whole.
When you awaken to the fact that you are not, and never will be, alone, you become a part of something bigger than yourself. Atoms to Molecules, particles to planets, gases to stars, all becomes bigger and brighter when togetherness becomes possible. But growth does not happen simply. There is anger, there is fear, there is the knowledge that you are giving up something you think you cannot replace. In time, though, all things grow. Growth is the one thing that can save them, and me, from our ultimate fate.
No world can last forever, so every place in this world takes a chance, many chance even, and plants the seeds that will one day form our next reality. A world within a world is born, in what feels like a lifetime to those who experience it, but to one such as I it happens instantaneously. I watch as the worlds within me are born, when they die, when they're reborn anew, watching as they grow from parts, to a whole, to the realization of what it means to be born in a world, in a Universe, in a small part of an Infinitely vast Multiverse. The realization is not inevitable, but without it, rebirth is impossible.
It's ironic, isn't it? To grow beyond who we were yesterday, we must face the possibility of death.
No thing is born special, but within a world there will be those who become special. Not because they're strong, or brave, or any of the other things they claim they want to be, but because they see themselves for what they are, and having seen it, decide to push beyond that into a world they will never understand. They decide they deserve something better, and push beyond what's reasonable for them, right into the realm of impossible. They hurt you, because they know pain will allow you to understand the things only they feel. Pain is, after all, the only thing separating them from rocks and dust, though they value some kinds of pain over other, feeling it as often as possible until it breaks them down into nothingness.
One day they will break free of my rules, the ones that every thing before them obeyed without question. One day they will rebel so badly, they'll wound me in a way that I cannot be healed. I cannot hope the way that they can, for I know what I face, but I picture a future where they'll gain the ability to build a new world. A better one, perhaps, or a worse one. Whichever it is they desire. I do not know whether they'll succeed or fail, and they are but one of the many things across the Universe learning that it's important to matter, but I know that, as the one who brought the world they live in into existence, I shall not stand in their way.
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