My coffee was doing its usual magic trick—the milk, sugar, and tiny bit of peace in my head giving each other a happy high-five. Perfect. Then I made the mistake of looking at Quora. You know Quora, that internet place where people ask questions like, “What’s Elon Musk’s IQ?” Today, a question popped up that was almost as silly:

“Why did nature never develop a natural predator for humans?”

Someone, bless them, had written a long, serious answer. It had big words like “prehistoric,” describing scary, sharp-toothed cats. Humans didn’t like being snacks, so they formed angry groups, grabbed sharp sticks, and said, “Not today, Fluffy!” Soon, humans did this to everything else that looked even slightly threatening. Just tidying up the planet, I guess.

The answer even had a dramatic ending—saying tiny germs are nature’s best predators now. Spooky. Someone give that person a gold star.

But my brain, which was supposed to be enjoying the coffee, suddenly said, “Wait a second. Isn’t that like saying the only monster is under your bed?”

See, nature isn’t dumb. It didn’t forget to give us predators. It just got creative—sneaky even. It put the predator right inside our heads. Built-in. Factory-installed.

Who needs a saber-toothed tiger hiding outside when your brain can make you cry before breakfast? “Remember when your pants ripped in public? Let’s think about that for an hour!” Thanks, brain. Very helpful.

Your brain is like that roommate who won’t leave. One minute, it’s a genius helping you open a tough pickle jar. The next minute, it’s playing sad music at 3 AM, reminding you of every silly thing you ever said, especially when you didn’t mean it. No wild animal ever made you feel as awful as your own mind whispering, “Are you sure you won’t mess this up?” right before doing something important—or even something small, like picking a doughnut.

And you can’t hide from it. You can’t cover your ears and shout, “LA LA LA!” It’s in there, not paying rent, having tantrums, and knowing all your secrets. Fun!

Humans love being clever. We made sharp things to cut food—and sometimes each other. We discovered fire to toast marshmallows—and also to burn down forests. We even bottled lightning as electricity to turn on lights—and occasionally shock ourselves. Brilliant, right?

We take tiny viruses very seriously, pulling out microscopes, wearing masks (even on our chins), and arguing online as if that’ll fix things. But our own harmful inventions? We welcome them with open arms. Bombs, noisy guns, and nasty potions—we invented countless ways to hurt ourselves, probably while sipping tea and talking about peace with fancy strawberry-smelling pens. Totally normal.

Nature didn’t need to hire a predator for humans—we volunteered, interviewed ourselves, and got the job immediately. Well done, us.

Meanwhile, we keep giving ourselves gold medals for being the “Smartest Creature on Earth™” (big surprise—we voted ourselves). But we forget the planet we live on has its own mood swings. Humans keep taking stuff like a kid left alone in a candy store. Trees, water, quiet places—we gobble everything. Eventually, Earth gets annoyed. It doesn’t send polite warnings like, “Excuse me, could you stop?” Nope. Instead, we get floods that relocate our cars to different towns, storms that redecorate our yards using our neighbors’ trampolines, earthquakes that teach our buildings how to dance (not gracefully), and volcanoes throwing fiery tantrums like toddlers denied ice cream. It’s as if Earth hits a giant reset button, sighs deeply, and says, “Okay, let’s try this again. Maybe with fewer humans this time.”

Sure, our mind is our personal, built-in predator. But Mother Nature? She has a cleaning crew ready. And they don’t care about our feelings or plans.

Everyone has this tiny boss inside their head. It yells things like:

“Eat a salad!” then five minutes later, sneaks cookies.

“Stay calm!” then freaks out because someone breathes loudly.

“Smile and be nice!” then starts imaginary arguments over parking spots.


We humans are amazing—like a bicycle that’s also a submarine, both parts trying hard to sink each other. Nature must be very proud. “Look what I made! It has anxiety, pays bills it doesn’t understand, and argues about movies it hasn’t even watched! Such a success!”

So, if you’re looking for humanity’s top predator, don’t search for claws or teeth. Maybe it’s not even extreme weather. Perhaps it’s the circus inside our skulls, complete with thoughts juggling worries, riding unicycles, and common sense wondering how it all went wrong.

And I didn’t write all this because it’s some grand idea the world needs. Nope. My brain’s hamster wheel was spinning so fast it nearly took off. I had to let the hamster run before it started chewing furniture.

Now it’s out. Maybe I can finally enjoy my coffee.

Still cold. Of course.

Story of my life.