I--what is I? Who am I? Why am I still here? I feel therefore I must still be here. Why does God give us hearts? Why give us lungs with which may breathe? Why give us sight so that we may see? Or ears? Or hands? Why make us and place us in this fucked up world where nothing but our love is real, and that too disappears with time. I, I feel like my heart has been sliced into tiny pieces, tiny broken pieces that form a puzzle of someone else's face in his mind.The disillusion I feel is deep, immesurable, like the ocean.