Breakable Girls and Boys

Contained in the human body, there are more intricacies than in the house you live in. Your brain has more connections in it than the universe has atoms. Your skin, the largest membrane you own, can when injured, repair itself. If, by chance, when cutting the tomatoes for your dinner, you accidentally slice into your skin, a glorious thing happens. From the moment your body perceives an injury, your brain subconsciously sends messages to various operating systems that, before such an injury, you never knew existed. Adrenaline kicks in to prevent shock. White blood cells begin to gather and ward off unwelcome infections. They then congeal to form a protective casing over the wound, stopping bleeding, and preventing it from infection. When this heals, the skin will for a time depending on the severity of the wound, hold in itself a memory, a scar. Occasionally, that scar will fade as the skin continues to revive itself, shedding old layers like one sheds dirty, wet clothes at the end of a day.

When a universe becomes injured, per say, as in the case of colliding galaxies or stars at the end of their life span, there is an entirely different process. When a star in supernova form collapses, the matter is compressed inwards before evaporating into nonexistence. The action forms a gravitational pull known as an event path, a surface to draw to it all in it's pull. This is a continuing process, one which constantly compresses and collapses all particles. Black holes absorb all that fall past the point of no return, into the gravitational pull. The core of these universal enigmas are assumed to emit radiation to a point which disintegrates all matter within it, before eventually evaporating itself. And when it does, the process lasts only the briefest nanosecond, yet exudes more than 200 times more luminosity than the sun.

And yet with all the wonder of a universe that has it's own disposal system, with all the colliding galaxies and supernovas and compressed and collapsible matter which spans distances thousands of times bigger than our solar system, in which the place you live is the fifth smallest planet, your brain can send out undetectable messages and can heal the cut on your finger, all without your conscious effort.

That's the thing. We break, and we heal. When something goes wrong, when we slice our finger or graze our knee, we don't collapse, compress and evaporate, we heal. So although the skin that enshrouds you may be one of the weakest membranes in the universe, delicate with it's intricacies, and although that mind of yours, which commands your body to function can sometimes make you believe falsities, and that heart which pumps the blood and oxygen to each part of your body can sometimes ache more than you think you can bear,
Remember.
There is a reason you heal and do not become nothing more than an unreflective gravitational abyss. The weight of existence is not so much that to fail at carrying it, to actually hurt and feel it, would mean that you ceased to be. 

Nothing, my dear, is yet so extreme.