I think too much.

I was thinking about how I'm like a moth attracted to a flame. At least, I assume, the moth doesn't know any better. I have no excuse, except for the primitive urges at the core of my brain. Then I began to wonder about what it is that makes us human. Is it the ability, or the desire, to combat those animalistic urges - to "rise above" them? Some people spend their entire lives fighting that battle. They consider it a noble cause. Religions are constructed around these concepts.
I have to wonder if a life built on denying your primal instincts is any kind of life at all. It seems that, for some, being human isn't really the goal - instead, the notion of humanity is betrayed in a quest for some kind of divinity. I mean, who are these people fooling? We're animals.
I've heard it said that artists create their own moral universes. But then everyone says, "Oh, you know, those wacky artists.."
Someone else said, "To be human is to suffer." I think, with our struggle to come to terms with this crazy dichotomy, that sums it up pretty succinctly.
"Meanwhile," as Marc Bolan said, "I'm still thinking..."