Such A Beauty

(You. Me. Everyone.)

This is you.
This is me.
That’s all we are.
Not some divine personality. Not some soul flying around with purpose.
Just a piece of flesh weighing around 3 pounds.
That’s it.
This little lump inside your skull… that’s what runs your whole world.

You think you’re in love?
You hate someone?
You’re depressed, happy, horny, sad, ambitious, lazy, spiritual, broken, in love with life, suicidal?
It’s all just your brain.
And the wildest part?
We barely understand how this damn thing even works.

You see people around you… they look different, right?
Different languages, cultures, skin tones, styles.
One’s into spirituality, another’s religious, someone’s a rebel, someone’s a corporate zombie.
But strip everything down—remove the personality, remove the culture, remove the clothes—
and all you’re left with is… another brain.

8 billion of them.
Wired differently.
Programmed through years of exposure, trauma, parenting, society, education, and random events.
But still… all just brains.

You might think:
“But I’m different, I have free will.”
No.
You’re just a set of instructions reacting to a trillion inputs.
You were born.
You got taught what’s “right”, what’s “wrong”, what to eat, who to marry, how to behave.
And then your brain ran with it.

Sometimes your brain became your best friend.
Sometimes it became your worst enemy.
It gave you dreams, and also anxiety.
It gave you passion, and also doubt.
It made you cry, and sometimes… made you question everything.

And here’s the real trip:
Ask yourself “Who am I?”
I dare you.

Not your name.
Not your job.
Not your relationship status or your likes and dislikes.
Those are just layers added on top.

Go deeper.
Silence everything.
And you’ll realize…
you don’t really know.

The one asking the question is the brain.
The one confused is the brain.
The one writing this, and the one reading it—both are brains doing their thing.

You’re not your personality.
Not your story.
Not even your name.
You are that 3-pound organ firing off signals 24/7.
That’s all that’s ever been there.
The rest is decoration.

Think about it—
We don’t know how it works.
We can’t fully explain consciousness.
We’re walking around with a machine that can imagine galaxies, feel heartbreak, and invent nuclear bombs…
but still forget where we kept the keys.

You’re not broken.
You’re just running an old program.
The thoughts that ruin your night, the overthinking, the drama, the ego—
It’s all scripts.
Just patterns.

And the insane thing?
You can change the script.
You can rewire your brain.
You can teach it new ways.
Because this thing is not fixed.

You can train your brain.
Feed it new data.
Undo years of bullshit.
Rebuild yourself—not from “finding yourself” but by understanding you never existed to begin with.

Only the brain did.

So next time you feel like life is out of control,
pause.

Touch your head.
Smile.
And say to yourself—
“Such a beauty.”

Because that weird pinkish blob is the real you.
Mysterious. Powerful. And still figuring itself out.