TOK: Who am I and how do I know?

Essay by razorxpHigh School, 12th gradeA+, April 2006

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A personal exploration of true human identity, what is human, and why we are human in metaphor form of an otherwise inanimate object.

Symbolism Key:

Word Metaphor

Pretzels Human kind

Oven The world and life on earth

Baker God

Fair skinned dough Youth

Oven door Life after death

Timer End of life

Heat Passing of time

Blackening Aging

Group of Pretzels Family

Hard Crust Breaking an emotional shell

Batch of Pretzels Generations

I can't take it anymore!! This heat is more than I can bear.... how can I escape from this oven of life that sentences me to an inescapable doom beyond these iron walls? I can almost hear their smacking, hungry lips waiting to suck the savor from my soul. Not even my salt will be left, only the odor on their breath, Only my memory.

I don't remember my creation, when I was first conceived. In fact, I don't know any other pretzels, who have made such a claim.

All I know is what I've been told. I'd like to think that I was lovingly formed at the hands of the baker who hand-placed every grain of salt upon my being. But the fact it, no one knows. What if the rumors were true? That we were all mass-produced, with some ultimate design from a baker far, far away, but who was utterly uninvolved in our personal creation? What if I truly was just randomly spewed out by a factory machine producing 400 others just like me per minute? Would I then still be special?

There are all kinds of pretzels around me. Surely, as they say, no two are exactly alike. Heh, I mean, no one is as beautiful as me, right? I can see my reflection now, watch my fair skin glisten in the...