It's hard to be a man.

Being human is tough. 
We have these big brains that overthink everything
and we have all of these selfish desires and then this guilt that makes us feel horrible about them
and we want to be famous
and rich, and one-up everyone around us
and stick ourselves somewhere for others to ogle at,
and we like ogling. 
Brains and overcooked sex drives and we grow hair in funny places
and we're easily distracted. 
Being human is tough stuff, if you want to be good. 
It's in streams of thought like this that I wonder why we're animal at all.
I mean, couldn't the intelligent life forms have been trees? 
For once- trees! Or protists- long streams of algae that could sway out our ideas to each other. 
I'm a human, an animal that communicates by vibrating parts of my throat.
Algae can't scream at its neighbor, or build a castle. 
For some reason, God's image was put into THIS thing. 
I'm staring at my arm-
God shouldn't have such thing as an arm,
that would be silly,
muscles up and down His legs and skin stretched over His spine.
We're quite the creation,
but why these bodies? 
What's He saying?
I ask my left kneecap. 
It's a pretty left kneecap,
but what does it mean?