QUESTION EVERYTHING

I was born beneath a thousand voicestelling me what I should be.

This is right.This is wrong.This is sacred.This is profane.This is who you are.This is who you'll never be.

And somewhere underneath them alla quieter voice began to rise.

Not with an answer.

With a question.

Why?

I inherited the mapbefore I knew the road.

Someone drew the bordersand told me where to go.

They gave me names for heaven,names for hell,names for what I couldn't understand.

They built their certaintylike walls around my headand told me safety lived inside them.

So I nodded.

I memorized.

I repeated.

I became fluentin answers that weren't mine.

But somewhere in the silencebetween one command and another,

something inside me whispered:

Why?

Why must the old waysalways remain?

Why must traditionalways mean truth?

Why must authorityalways mean wisdom?

Why must doubtbe treated like disease?

Why should I fear a questionsimply because an answermight disappear?

I didn't know.

And that frightened me.

But the fearwasn't enoughto make me stop.

So let the walls shake.

Let the old foundations tremble.

If something is true,

it should survivebeing questioned.

Question everything.

Even the voice inside your head.

Question everything.

Even the things you thoughtyou understood.

If the truth is real,it will not need a cage.

If the light is real,it will survive the flame.

Question everything.

Even me.

Even this.

Even the roadbeneath your feet.

Because I would ratherwalk through uncertaintythan sleep inside a lie.

I questioned the peoplewho claimed to know me.

I questioned the systemsthat claimed to protect me.

I questioned the customseveryone followedwithout remembering why.

I questioned the rulesthat lived inside conversationswithout ever being spoken.

The invisible commandments.

Don't be too different.

Don't ask too much.

Don't speak too loudly.

Don't challenge the personstanding above you.

Don't become uncomfortable.

Don't make peoplelook at themselves.

So many rules.

So few signatures.

Who wrote them?

Who decided?

And why?

I began to noticehow easily humansmistake repetitionfor truth.

How easily we call somethingnormalsimply becausewe've seen it forever.

How easily a cage disappearswhen everyone inside ithas forgottenthat there is a door.

I don't wantto destroy every rule.

I don't want chaosfor the sake of chaos.

I want to knowwhich rules deserve to remain.

And which onessurvive only becausenobody has asked.

Question everything.

Even the voice inside your head.

Question everything.

Even the things you thoughtyou understood.

If the truth is real,it will not need a cage.

If the light is real,it will survive the flame.

Question everything.

Even me.

Even this.

Even the roadbeneath your feet.

Because I would ratherwalk through uncertaintythan sleep inside a lie.

Hermes found meat the crossroads.

Not with a sword.

Not with a crown.

Not demanding obedie