For as Long as I've known

It is not known when and why it came to be; all that is known is that it is, for who would question it? Certainly, something so small as a single life on this planet with an abundance of life should not matter much more than a speck of dust in a storage room long forgotten, long ignored and long untouched; and yet, the question and statement remains in this 'speck of dust', for however long it takes to gain consciousness of its surroundings, for however long it decides to live, that is how long it will have to take the punishment of life. All the same, who does he have to blame but himself? Who put him in such a position if not himself? It would seem stupid that such a small thing in this vast universe should be of any value at all, and, yet, we all put value into the meager existences we choose to sustain.

I am unsure how it came to be and why it came to be, but it is there, choosing to live another day, choosing to take the punishment it has so stupidly pushed upon itself, for who is he that he should have the outrageous desire to know the future? Yet, isn't it his future and should he not be granted that much? So let him pay for this desire, the stupid fool, let him pay for it with sweat and blood and deep dark emotions. Let him pay for it with his eyes and his ears and let him pay for it with the knowledge that yesterday was better than today and he should not have had the desire to know. Let him suffer as we punish his mortal mind and body and we shall throw him into the deepest pits of despair and drudgery. We cannot let him get away with such blatant disregard for that which is inevitable: death. And when will it be enough? When his foolish desires wane, when his hunger for knowledge has become far outweighed by the frailty of his mind. Only then will we let him stop paying because only then will we know that he has learnt his lesson.

I am unsure why and how I came to be but I am here, longing foolishly for that which is not mine, for but a sliver of positive emotion. For what seems like forever, I have been tormented by the great illusion that what sits just beyond my grasp is happiness, paying for it with sweat and blood and in the future, when I grow old, with my sight and hearing. I lay helpless as I try to chase that which is not meant to be only to come closer to the end of the road where I may fall and die. If I were to put it so poetically, I am running on a road, the sides of which fall far and deep. At the end of this road, there is a dead end; but if that reminds you of walls on three sides then you are mistaken because this dead end is merely another fall to the far and deep, for whichever way you choose to take, it all ends in that, 'far and deep'.