When you look into the great beyond, you'll find that it stares back, that you gaze on naught but yourself.

How? Why? Who? When? Should I use all those other one-word questions instead of actually saying anything?

But sometimes you have to wonder. What is life, who is life, why do we take all these things for granted?

And why on earth should life not be a who? Well, perhaps not on earth if NASA has anything to say about it, but really, why not? Life is a person, a being, a soul, an imprint of our very minds, souls, and essences. And therein lies our problem.

We see life as something for us to experience, to utilize, and not something entirely different, entirely beyond the scope of our comprehension. But if life is something so simple, something so easily tamed, why is it that it shocks and amazes us at every turn?

But why should we need meaning? We constantly search for it, constantly require it, isn't it enough to know what will be best for us and for everything, for life as it were, and search for that?

Though perhaps that's what we look for when we search for meaning. Perhaps.

Some days I think I shouldn't even attempt to explain anything serious, I won't last long before something explodes. In this case my soul.

Well, there goes all that searching for meaning I've been doing. What good is meaning without a soul?

Hey, at least my demeanor shouldn't change much. It's not like I was altogether that nice of a person beforehand. But now... now, the world will be mine!

And there I go again. Some days I find myself wondering, lost in mind, lost in reason. Some days I find that life is naught but a waterfall, ever flowing, ever falling.

I've been hypnotizing you the whole time, and now you're stuck as my mindless slave.

Indeed, so 'tis. When all seems to be lost, 'twas when we found our way. We can search, we can look, but in the end we're nothing but specks of dust, trapped in the flow of infinity.

And that, I suppose, is the meaning of life.

-hyperbole out.