You Are a Work of Wonder
There you once were, creating everything that you are like you had done it before. Cells by the billions died, and cells by the billions were born as the hands of death sculpted you into being.
You grew limbs, size, formulated awareness, and from nothing — you became something. All the while your mother carried on her daily business while her body just happened to know what to do as if you were both speaking to one another in a different manner of communication. A raw, ancient language that even the stars speak when they are born. And here you are now, sitting/standing as a third-dimensional creature loaded with complex mental domains as you read the thoughts of another human on an electronic device that fits within your hand in a time period that is a brief flash in cosmic history. But, hey, you know, you’ve got to make that dollar! You got to walk around like nothing fucking incredible is happening and play some role, so society doesn’t outcast you until you fall into depression and formulate suicidal thoughts. Life is magical… We are capable of anything we can imagine, and people who deny this are people who deny the very existence of themselves. You are a work of wonder. A masterpiece. Anything and everything you are beautiful.