Look at you, you poor, pathetic thing.
Nothing more than the product of 4 billion years of evolution.
The sum of all the forces that have been shaping you since birth.
You’re given an infinitely complex brain to think with, yet you’re worried about next week’s test.
You’re given a hundred years to live, yet you worry about running out of time.
30 trillion cells work tirelessly to keep you alive, yet you fill your lungs with smoke and stomach with dread.
There is no numerical notation that makes the odds of you existing even remotely comprehendible, yet you worry that you’re no one special.
    
Do you really think you’ll do something worth while?
Make something that will be remembered? 
Leave any trace of good in this shitty world you’re so righteously indignant towards?
    
      

Yes. I think I just might.