Entire wars are fought inside your body with more casualties than any world war humans have created thus far.

Oneness is not always peaceful: consciousness rides on a body that is, at the cellular scale, a permanent war zone. Every second, immune cells hunt, swarm, and die in numbers that dwarf any battlefield in human history, and we never feel the casualties. The colony we call a self is held together by this ceaseless violence and repair, a superorganism so vast that its citizens are invisible to it. When we shrink the scale, the line between body and battlefield, between self and multitude, quietly dissolves. If a single life already contains a million unmourned deaths, what does it mean to call any of us one thing? What is the "you" that all of this is fighting to keep alive?