Every day was exactly the same: Firey woke up, realized where he was, then screamed until he couldn't do it any more.
What led to all of this? What sort of cruel existence would lead to him, the winner of the Battle for Dream Island, instead being unfairly punished by being essentially left to die, suspended in a cage high above the world? What sort of bad luck did he need to get from the random chance of the universe in order to have his entire existence depend on the strength of a single rope tethering him to the Yoyle... Tower?
The flame had plenty of time to think about it; well, he thought about it in the exceptionally rare circumstance where he wasn't having a panic attack over his fear of heights. *Everyone* has thought about that question at some point, even if they may word it differently, or not even realize it. Why are they here? Why do they exist? How are they alive? Why are they so lucky? Or unlucky? Or whatever? Given all the hoops they've had to jump through, given all the Battling for Dream Island they've done, given that *all* of it was for nothing, it was a question that they couldn't stop themselves from thinking about. Existence was a cruel, unjust, torturous game, and they wanted to know why they were being forced to play.
If Firey- or anyone, but *especially* Firey -thought about it, giving it more thought than merely 2.763 seconds, he'd find that everything eventually goes back to the time and place in which he was born. The very start of his very pitiful life. One day, the world was *great*. He wasn't born yet, and so he couldn't experience anything because there's *nothing* that can do the experiencing. That does mean that he can't enjoy the good parts of life, yes, but that also means he didn't have to suffer through the bad parts. The *very* bad parts. The parts that necessitated the existence of recovery centers. The parts that made him feel sad or mad whenever he woke up in the morning. The parts that involved Coiny.
But then, one day, for *some* reason, the universe decided to give life to a flame. Maybe it was an inanimate fire that was inexplicably given the gift of life, or maybe he just spontaneously appeared into existence; that's a topic that he'll have to get back to later, if he ever remembers to do that. Whatever the case may be, he didn't exist in one moment, but was the exact opposite of nonexistent in the very next. Now he was real, now he was conscious, now he was *alive*, and now he was gonna be subjected to whatever horrible, terrible, awful, bad things the world could throw at him, whenever it feels like it, regardless of whether or not he wants it.
The 'why' of Firey's existence, of anyone's existence, gets plenty of attention as is. Golf Ball and her... *friend* have speculated heavily on just what exactly gives these otherwise-inanimate objects the burden of existence, the pain of living. The trend just sticks out *far* too much for it to be easily explained away by random chance, even if all signs seemingly point to it. There were probably millions, billions, *trillions* of their extended inanimate family out there, each one being just as dead and soulless as all the others. And yet they, and they alone, are allowed to recognize this abnormality in the universe. It just didn't sit right with them. Not at all. It *does* make sense to think of themselves as being the unfortunate victims of an incredibly improbably low chance finally receiving the light of day, but that also made them feel incredibly bad and kept them up at night. And when something makes you miserable, even the most reasonable and sensical folk start to give in to emotion and passion. Surely *something* is to blame for this cruel joke, this prank played on them. Right?
Right.
There's so much focus already directed on *why* they exist. Where's all the love for the *how*? Investigating it is a rather sensitive and touchy thing, given that all the bits for existence are *presumably* inside a person, and you can't exactly get there without... issue. But according to what little the balls have uncovered, signs point to *something* within one's body being responsible for their consciousness. It can't possibly be something outside of it, something that isn't physically attached to them; if it wasn't physical in any form, then that means it's outside the physical, and thus cannot interfere with the physical in any way. That's just physically impossible. Ridiculous. Asinine. There's also the fact that one's life tends to end rather quickly if you get crushed to death, or your body otherwise suffers some rather extreme trauma. That *presumably* is the thing in the body taking more than it can handle and giving out as a result.
