People.

One minute, people can be nice to you, and the next, they can be downright awful.
We all have to constantly subject ourselves to their emotional rollercoasters and they don't want to tell us what's going on; just take it all out on us. It's so not fair.
And just think about all those people you think are your friends. Probably half of them aren't.
I mean, think about it.

Your face.

Sometimes I look at people and I wonder why we look the way we do.
I mean, think about it.
We have two odd-shaped peepholes halfway down our faces and a gigantic blob right under them, which sits right atop two pinkish slivers that cover a bunch of white squares and a big ol' leathery pink floppy thing that tastes that food that makes us die, not to mention an entire complex system of innards.
And then our skin's always different, but usually some varying shade of brown. Or white, if you're an albino.
And whaddup with feet? Like, why do we need toes? They're so wiggly. We could balance just as well if they were webbed. I mean, Ashton Kutcher has webbed toes, and he doesn't trip over everything, now, does he? No sir, he does not.
And really, now, God--ARMPIT HAIR?!
We are such weird looking beings. If aliens came to earth, they'd point and laugh.

Food.

I learned in my Biology classes that our bodies are built so that we take good care of ourselves.
But if that's the case, then why do we LOVE junk food and CRAVE it even when we don't need it?
Think about it--you're not even really that hungry, and your tongue kinda feels like being happy, so hey, out of that awesome lean turkey in the fridge and that seriously artery-clogging donut your brother left on the counter this morning, you decide to go for that donut.
And then later, you freak out and work it all off.
Or, if you're like me, you freak out and then complain about not having any way to exercise during your day and about how you're going to get fat.
And yet, you still don't go for that turkey until you run out of junk to stuff your face with.
The more I think about it, the more I feel like our bodies want to live and help us be happy, but if we get too happy, it's our bodies' job to make sure we DIE.
Or something.

Laughter.

Why is it that when we think something's funny, we automatically breathe faster and can only speak in an idiotic tone of voice?
And why do we want to kill ourselves?!
I mean, seriously.
I was just laughing so hard, I had to stop reading what I was so I wouldn't choke.
It's like, you're enjoying something one second and then choking the next.
This world is weird.