Imagine if one day you were given a choice: become immortal and indestructible for eternity,
unable to be harmed by anything ever again and get to live forever.
However, in order to achieve that you must give up your purpose in life. Whatever it is that you
were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and
future of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in
the first place. You don’t know what “that” is. You’ll never know, but regardless you say yes.
Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway.
That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? You say it’s a lie. It doesn’t matter – you don’t
matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections – and it’ll all be fine, and
you’ll live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.
But then centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through
horrible heartbreak and misery and despair, because every loved one you ever had, every friend
you ever made, every person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on
long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish unable to go
with them or ever see them again), you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme
of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival long ago; but, because of
the choice you made (longevity over individual purpose), you were never given the resources or
ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly
made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.
The entire universe as you know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes,
collapses in on itself essentially forming a massive black hole. Stars, nebulas, galaxies, solar
systems and planets. Worlds and worlds of living people and living things, and light years of
time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.
But you remain.
Just you. Floating amongst, spiralling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With
a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t
possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have
one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally
nowhere. I mean, technically you are now the universe – if it would bring you petty comfort to
think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, noone, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And
ever.
All because you thought you didn’t matter. But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten
yourself into. You’re going to be pretty bored for that eternity, huh?
Or maybe, it was out of selfishness. This wasn’t because you felt useless, but you simply cared
about prolonging your own life, nothing else. Hm.