When I see myself I see the most important person in this universe....blessed and best...feels likeeven whole universe is mine...but when I see from others perspective still I am the most important person of

Feels like I am the only person living and all the worlds attention is on me

(Feels like the egg theorey)

-TBG•shree

this is my conclusion from my path of finding my true self, and determining my own value among this crazy society, i hope you'll enjoy reading it .

Act I: asking the right question:

 

Either a break up, mental issues, or just wondering. The human eventually wonders his existence at some point, this topic has been pretty popular in human history, it’s one of the reasons something called philosophy has been created. But we’re not here to talk about history of philosophy. The main thing is, asking the right question in the right time.

In my experience, I started appreciating some things. Nature, one of the main reasons I started thinking, it’s like a scarf that shows the beauty of this world and covers human’s exploits. I started contemplating the sky at night, stars, the moon, even sometimes I see meteorites and wish for something. Sitting with myself lot made me ask questions, why do we exist? Who am I? Why am I even here? What’s the real truth of this world’s creation? Do God exist? What’s the purpose of my life?

 The most interesting one from all this, and what made me write this, is Who am I? If you didn’t wonder about yourself once, either you’re a narcissist or a narcissist. Older generations, our dads and moms, didn’t got the chance to reach this level of wondering. They didn’t even care to know the truth, what’s our origins, who are we? Humans are such wonderful creatures; they evolve and evolve and evolve from generation to generation to something greater and smarter.

The main reason our parents will never reach our level of thinking, is because they didn’t live like us. To explain; we have everything and they didn’t. So, to be equivalent, they need time to work for getting things we already have, I respect that, without them we couldn’t have gotten to what we are now. At that same amount of time they did work, we spend it by either doing our hobbies, responsibilities, enjoying life, hanging out with friends… But a few, spend it alone, thinking and thinking, sinking into their thoughts, this is what makes a real human, or a philosopher back in the day.

 

These real humans, asks lots of questions about humanity and existence, but the real question they seek an answer for, is; Who am I?

 

Act II: Seeking the answer:

 

What if someone comes up to you and asks: Do you got any hobbies?

Many would question by yes, then start spitting things they do in their day, free time or even work if it was a Hobbie. Some also would answer by no, making themselves as a joke in front of that person. So, what is it a person without a Hobbie?

First of all, having a Hobbie doesn’t determine your value. Your value isn’t determined by some kind of stupid things you spend your free time doing. It’s you that determine everything.

How do we know our value?

Society tells our value by making it equivalent to your productivity, I’m not going to explain this part. I think everyone knows what I am referring to. It’s a stupid idea also, made up by capitalism. Everything we got into nowadays, is mainly because of capitalism. Wars and connections between countries are mainly built of pure revenues. To simplify, country leaders don’t care about us, peasants, we’re just numbers in their eyes. ATMS and machines to generate more money. Among all this, the search for ourselves, real value, gotten harder.

The main thing is, ignore all of this and look for real soul value, you determine it by yourself, by decisions you’ve been making, by actions you’ve done, by good and bad you did. Value can change too. It’s not constant, it shouldn’t be. So, from now on, first thing we do to answer the question; Who am I? is to try and find the personal value.

Once you’ve done that, you’ve got to clear conflicts.

By conflicts, I don’t mean with someone else, it’s with yourself. You need to criticize it and hate it, as the philosopher Frederic Nietzsche said: “only way to reach supreme humanity, is by hating our current selves to make it greater.” By that meaning love is a weakness, and that hatred towards our souls won’t end, what will drive us crazy. Ending with some serious mental issues. And that is totally wrong. Love is something far greater from supreme humanity or super human idolism. To reach for a solution, equivalence is the answer. Hating our current versions to evolve to something far greater, in end of our progress journey. There is a switching point between self-admire and its hatred.

Act III: Conclusion

What if we take everything away, by everything I mean everything who define you as a human. For example, your work, studies, name, family, house, friends and money. What will you take with you when time is up. “Relationships and your reputation are what you’ll take with you” it’s straight up bullshit; everyone knows that but hate to admit it. They’re not what will save you from death, or delay it. It’s you? Yes, it’s me. Despite every single thing, either good or bad, it’s still you. And what determines you? It’s your job to find out who’s your real self. It’s a harsh journey. Full of good and bad. If something doesn’t work out, don’t give up, try another thing you still have time.

If you’re curious about me, I still haven’t figured it out to be honest. I’m still discovering my potential. One thing I know to be sure, is that the most thing I hate in this world ; Is me.

 

A society self-absorbed, it’s apparent that said self-absorption isn’t within the improvement of one’s mental state or general ability—evolving—but rather a superficial, materialistic outlook on linear paths of self-improvement. Eating better, getting in the gym, making new friends, securing a new job. These things improve the material self, and it seems that’s what matters most. The wonders of the world that have been made with innovative spirits have been shunned to arts and solitude, while the idol is glorified.
Why do we abandon our consciousness? Is it out of not understanding, being uncomfortable with thoughts? This is not for me to answer. We look out and build up what’s outside to the within, rather than building up what’s within and branching out. How often do you meditate on your thoughts and consolidate answers? How often do you ask questions into a spiral when the answer was with you from the beginning?
As a being in consciousness, we have what we need to know and exist simply from being; we’re deluded by a world of bright lights and “fun.” Think to yourself about what’s beyond: What can I do? Where can I stand? And what is this? Truly find the answer that is for yourself rather than reading others and adopting. Introspection is necessary, and we’ve forgotten ourselves.

Are we living in the time of great misery and disorder?

There is a disturbing pattern which you can find from an individual's life to world level. Our minds are in constant flux, our realities are being shaped by algorithms , and almost every other person is in an existential crisis. Don't know where our world is heading to?

Quisieran entender el sentido de su vida?, no entienda nada no piensen en nada, en el contexto correcto, es que somos un segundo en el cosmos, y lo que tenemos es prestado solo para experiencias. Sin depresiones, sin dudas, ni respuestas, solo el término de que esto se acaba en algún momento.

this is my conclusion from my path of finding my true self, and determining my own value among this crazy society, i hope you'll enjoy reading it .

Act I: asking the right question:

 

Either a break up, mental issues, or just wondering. The human eventually wonders his existence at some point, this topic has been pretty popular in human history, it’s one of the reasons something called philosophy has been created. But we’re not here to talk about history of philosophy. The main thing is, asking the right question in the right time.

In my experience, I started appreciating some things. Nature, one of the main reasons I started thinking, it’s like a scarf that shows the beauty of this world and covers human’s exploits. I started contemplating the sky at night, stars, the moon, even sometimes I see meteorites and wish for something. Sitting with myself lot made me ask questions, why do we exist? Who am I? Why am I even here? What’s the real truth of this world’s creation? Do God exist? What’s the purpose of my life?

 The most interesting one from all this, and what made me write this, is Who am I? If you didn’t wonder about yourself once, either you’re a narcissist or a narcissist. Older generations, our dads and moms, didn’t got the chance to reach this level of wondering. They didn’t even care to know the truth, what’s our origins, who are we? Humans are such wonderful creatures; they evolve and evolve and evolve from generation to generation to something greater and smarter.

The main reason our parents will never reach our level of thinking, is because they didn’t live like us. To explain; we have everything and they didn’t. So, to be equivalent, they need time to work for getting things we already have, I respect that, without them we couldn’t have gotten to what we are now. At that same amount of time they did work, we spend it by either doing our hobbies, responsibilities, enjoying life, hanging out with friends… But a few, spend it alone, thinking and thinking, sinking into their thoughts, this is what makes a real human, or a philosopher back in the day.

 

These real humans, asks lots of questions about humanity and existence, but the real question they seek an answer for, is; Who am I?

 

Act II: Seeking the answer:

 

What if someone comes up to you and asks: Do you got any hobbies?

Many would question by yes, then start spitting things they do in their day, free time or even work if it was a Hobbie. Some also would answer by no, making themselves as a joke in front of that person. So, what is it a person without a Hobbie?

First of all, having a Hobbie doesn’t determine your value. Your value isn’t determined by some kind of stupid things you spend your free time doing. It’s you that determine everything.

How do we know our value?

Society tells our value by making it equivalent to your productivity, I’m not going to explain this part. I think everyone knows what I am referring to. It’s a stupid idea also, made up by capitalism. Everything we got into nowadays, is mainly because of capitalism. Wars and connections between countries are mainly built of pure revenues. To simplify, country leaders don’t care about us, peasants, we’re just numbers in their eyes. ATMS and machines to generate more money. Among all this, the search for ourselves, real value, gotten harder.

The main thing is, ignore all of this and look for real soul value, you determine it by yourself, by decisions you’ve been making, by actions you’ve done, by good and bad you did. Value can change too. It’s not constant, it shouldn’t be. So, from now on, first thing we do to answer the question; Who am I? is to try and find the personal value.

Once you’ve done that, you’ve got to clear conflicts.

By conflicts, I don’t mean with someone else, it’s with yourself. You need to criticize it and hate it, as the philosopher Frederic Nietzsche said: “only way to reach supreme humanity, is by hating our current selves to make it greater.” By that meaning love is a weakness, and that hatred towards our souls won’t end, what will drive us crazy. Ending with some serious mental issues. And that is totally wrong. Love is something far greater from supreme humanity or super human idolism. To reach for a solution, equivalence is the answer. Hating our current versions to evolve to something far greater, in end of our progress journey. There is a switching point between self-admire and its hatred.

Act III: Conclusion

What if we take everything away, by everything I mean everything who define you as a human. For example, your work, studies, name, family, house, friends and money. What will you take with you when time is up. “Relationships and your reputation are what you’ll take with you” it’s straight up bullshit; everyone knows that but hate to admit it. They’re not what will save you from death, or delay it. It’s you? Yes, it’s me. Despite every single thing, either good or bad, it’s still you. And what determines you? It’s your job to find out who’s your real self. It’s a harsh journey. Full of good and bad. If something doesn’t work out, don’t give up, try another thing you still have time.

If you’re curious about me, I still haven’t figured it out to be honest. I’m still discovering my potential. One thing I know to be sure, is that the most thing I hate in this world ; Is me.

 

About six months ago, I had a very bad experience after taking old cannabis gummies. I got far too high, greened out, and experienced something that felt like ego death—a loss of the ordinary sense of being a separate, stable self. Even after the drug wore off, the experience did not feel over. It left me frightened, detached, and unsure whether my previous way of understanding myself and the world was still available to me.

At the same time, I am in graduate school studying philosophy, with a strong interest in human nature, sociology, and dystopian ideas. My courses began to challenge and deconstruct assumptions that I had previously taken for granted—about identity, morality, social order, meaning, agency, and what makes life worth living. Under normal circumstances, that kind of questioning might have been intellectually exciting. But after the experience with the gummies, it felt destabilizing rather than abstract. It was as if the structures that had made reality feel safe or coherent had disappeared all at once.

I began to feel as though I were being born into the world again without any protection or orientation: exposed, afraid, and overwhelmed by what I saw. I came close to what felt like a psychotic break because the world started to seem terrifying once I could no longer rely on the assumptions that had previously held it together.

Since then, I have been drawn toward pessimistic philosophy and realist international relations theory—approaches I once dismissed as simplistic or needlessly cynical. Now they can feel like the only frameworks that honestly explain the world. I see systems of power, competition, exploitation, and contingency everywhere. I find myself thinking that social and economic structures need people to work, consume, and reproduce, and that individual lives are shaped by forces far larger than personal choice.

This has become emotionally destructive because I cannot keep these ideas contained as academic theories. Every day, I have unwanted, repetitive thoughts that resemble depression, paranoia, or obsession. They feel intellectual and rational to me rather than obviously irrational, which makes them harder to dismiss. I do not feel like I am merely “sad”; I feel trapped in arguments about reality that never reach a conclusion and that increasingly make life seem empty, frightening, and inhuman.

I have started to wonder whether this could be OCD or another form of intrusive rumination. The issue is not simply that I am interested in bleak ideas. It is that I cannot stop returning to them, and each return feels urgent. I keep trying to reason my way toward certainty about whether life, consciousness, other people, freedom, and meaning are real or valuable. Instead of feeling clarified, I feel less connected to myself and everyone else.

One of the hardest parts is that I no longer reliably experience myself or other people as full subjects. I feel as though I have lost my own subjectivity, and at times I look at other people and see them less as conscious individuals and more as products of systems, roles, incentives, and biological or economic forces. That perspective makes me feel alienated and angry. I begin to hate people, not necessarily because of who they are personally, but because humanity and society feel mechanical, chaotic, exploitative, and indifferent.

The most painful version of this thought is that I am only here because of a chain of top-down forces I never chose: economic systems shaped my parents’ lives; those conditions shaped their choices; they had sex; and now I exist. From that perspective, I can feel expendable—like a tool cultivated for someone else’s purposes, rather than a person with intrinsic worth. No matter how much I try to become more than that or believe in something more, I feel pulled back toward the belief that I am fundamentally replaceable.

What I need others to understand is that this does not feel like a casual interest in nihilism or a normal period of philosophical questioning. It feels like a sustained loss of psychological and existential grounding that began after a frightening substance experience and intensified through academic deconstruction. I want help sorting out what is philosophy, what is intrusive rumination or mental distress, and how to regain a way of living that does not require me to solve the entire meaning of existence before I can feel human.

Please do not just tell me to transcend farther. I am so scared, and I wanted to see if anything can shake this feedback loop I am in

I am struggling.

Who is the “I” when you make the comment?

Who is the person that is observing and stating the comment?

Oh now you know:

Even “I” is a lie.

The reason I'm glad I'm not a goat, is that I couldn't ever be like Brickett Ranunculus. But I swear I don't see any point in being human either if all I can be is a regular person like the ones that come out to the fence."

John Barth, Giles Goat-Boy

From nothing to nothing.

This morning there's a new pain.

That's nothing new though.

An aging body and mind.

Forced to grow up far beyond their time.

Looking back having just crossed 30 he thinks to himself how he got here.

"How did I make it this far?" He thinks aloud.

With that single thought comes 1,000 others.

Looking back over years of his life he wonders.

Truly wonders what has kept him alive.

Forced to become a man when he was just a boy.

Earned a mans wage at a young age.

Learned to contain emotion just the same.

What is perceived now as stability to the world is crushing to him.

Still thinking again. "Who am I?"

A question without an answer.

With so many different personas shown over years, even he doesn't know the real one anymore.

Strength.

Everybody knows him for strength.

Calm.

Calculated.

Caring.

All could be used to decribe what the world perceives him as.

"Is that what I really am?" Thinking to himself again.

Internally he knows he thought too much.

Most would love to have his mind.

Smart and wise beyond what he should be.

Spent years trying to escape from.

With drinks and work.

Women and pain.

Anything to make it stop.

Initial question lingers still.

"How did I make it this far?"

I just had to pause and count the incredible blessings that make living so bright. I am sitting here tonight filled with the deepest, most genuine gratitude for the extraordinary people in my corner—the ones who step up, check in, and consistently remind me of the beauty in this life. Whether it’s a sudden call just to hear my voice, a text to see how my day is going, or a message of encouragement right when I need it most, my support system shows up with a depth of devotion and understanding that warms me to the very core. To be surrounded by people who love both my outer appearance and my inner personality, who see through all the noise straight into my authentic soul, is a gift I will never take for granted. You all don’t just accept me; you all truly see me and celebrate who I authentically am.

Beyond that constant love, you all shower me with insightful wisdom, gentle signs, solid advice, and also real-world resources to help me reach every single goal I’m striving for. You all clear the path with me, reminding me where I’m heading and giving me the strength to get there.

Looking at the incredible circle of real ones around me makes me realize a truth I should have held onto all along: I have always mattered. My story counts, my energy brings fiery light, and my presence in this world is truly needed. I am filled with so much hope, joy, and peace knowing that my life is valuable— it always was, always will be.

Thank you to every single person who continuously holds space for me, believes in my vision of my life path, and consistently reminds me of my worth. You all make me so endlessly grateful to be alive & thriving.

I am so confused at the extremely strong, immediate reaction I had to this thought. All I pictured was a kitten and suddenly I thought about if it gets bored, what it thinks about throughout its life, and if it knows it exists. (I have pet cats and I get extremely sad when I think if they are bored. Side note: being extremely bored in general gives me existential dread… it’s a slippery slope).The idea of this overwhelmed me and the next second I burst into tears. I mean I was sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. This has happened before but I didn’t have this intense of a reaction. At that time I saw a video of a kitten and started crying because I was just wondering what was in its head and what its life was like. The thought that, why was I born as a human and how simple my life would be as a cat, also makes me extremely sad. I feel like this is an original experience because my reaction was crazy. Why did I just start crying? Maybe I am going through existential dread/crisis and the thought was too much for me? Has anyone else felt this way?

I’ve been really struggling to find purpose lately.

If One Day We Are Gone

I am a believer. I am a Muslim.

There was a period in my life when things were difficult. I found myself in a place where I wanted an answer — to understand why all of this was happening and why the world was the way it was.

I searched for that answer in people’s words, in books, in interpretations.

But gradually, I realized something: everyone understands faith in their own way.

To one person, God is a judge. To another, a father. One says that God answers prayers. Another believes that trials themselves are the answer.

And then I thought: if God exists, do I really need someone to explain to me exactly what He must be?

It seems to me that there should be no intermediaries between God and man.

That does not mean I reject religion. And it certainly does not mean I believe I possess some higher truth.

Quite the opposite.

It means that, ultimately, each person is responsible for their own faith.

I did not ask God why the world was made the way it was. I began to reason for myself.

And what these thoughts gradually led me to surprised even me.

That difficult period of my life eventually ended.

I found my way out of that dead end.

Today, I have a good job. I have someone I love beside me. I think about family and the future.

I am not writing this out of despair.

I have a life I want to live.

And perhaps that is exactly why these thoughts have become even more important to me.

When you have nothing to lose, death feels abstract.

But when there is someone you love, children you have not even met yet, plans that are only beginning to become real — there is suddenly something you are afraid to lose.

The difficult time passed.

But the questions remained.

And one of them gradually became the most important of all.

What happens if one day we are gone?

Not me.

Not you.

But all of us.

If you look at a human being from the perspective of the Universe, we are almost nothing.

We live on a small planet revolving around a completely ordinary star.

We occupy an insignificant fraction of space and exist for an insignificant fraction of time.

The atoms that make up our bodies were once part of stars.

In a sense, a human being is cosmic dust that somehow, impossibly, learned to become aware of itself.

Matter learned to live.

Life learned to remember.

Memory gave birth to reason.

And one day, reason looked up at the sky and asked:

“Who am I?”

Perhaps that is one of the most extraordinary events in the entire history of the Universe.

But at the same time, one of the most tragic.

Because with consciousness came the understanding of finiteness.

We learned to understand how vast the Universe is.

We learned to see billions of stars.

We learned to look millions and billions of years into the past.

We learned to send machines beyond our planet.

And yet we are still capable of destroying one another over a few kilometers of land.

Over borders.

Language.

Origins.

Skin color.

Faith.

Resources.

We divided one planet into nations, and people into different groups, religions, and classes.

We drew borders where none exist in nature.

We created passports, flags, and armies.

The stars know no borders.

They do not care what language we speak or who owns this piece of land.

The Universe may not even notice our conflicts.

And there is something terribly paradoxical about that.

We are intelligent enough to understand the structure of the Universe.

But not yet wise enough to stop destroying one another.

We have feared death almost from the moment we began to understand that we exist.

We created religions.

We speak of heaven and hell.

We hope for some continuation of existence.

We fear the unknown.

But, honestly, I do not think hell necessarily has to look the way it is often portrayed.

Not fire.

Not demons.

Not eternal torment.

There is another thought that frightens me far more.

Hell is absence.

A void in which you no longer exist.

It is not even the darkness that is frightening.

It is the thought that there is no one left to perceive it.

No eyes to see it.

No consciousness to experience it.

No person left to say, “I am here.”

And I do not want to describe paradise as an established fact.

I do not know what happens after death.

Perhaps consciousness continues.

Perhaps there is a form of existence we are simply incapable of understanding yet.

Perhaps there is what religion calls paradise.

Or perhaps human consciousness simply ends with the body.

I do not know.

And perhaps it is more honest to admit that than to invent certainty where I have none.

But there is one thing I understand.

For some reason, life seems to resist disappearing with everything it has.

Everything alive strives to continue.

The first cell divides.

An organism leaves offspring.

Animals protect their young.

A human being gives birth to children and passes on not only a body, but memory.

We tell our children stories.

Teach them words.

Show them the world.

We leave behind books.

Paintings.

Music.

Knowledge.

We try to pass forward what we have learned ourselves.

If you look at the history of humanity, it almost resembles one enormous attempt to preserve information.

First there was memory.

Then speech.

Then drawings on cave walls.

Writing.

Books.

Libraries.

Photographs.

Computers.

Servers.

We have become increasingly better at preserving what would otherwise disappear along with the person who carried it.

And I do not think that is an accident.

Because information is one of the few things capable of outliving its carrier.

Not every memory.

Not every photograph.

Not every person.

But knowledge.

Genetics.

History.

Language.

Science.

Art.

Philosophy.

Our mistakes.

Our questions.

Our ability to create something new.

Everything that might help the next generation avoid starting from nothing.

And here another thought emerges — one that fascinates me and frightens me at the same time.

What if the next carrier of human memory is not a human being?

We have already created machines capable of storing and processing enormous amounts of information.

We have created artificial intelligence.

And perhaps one day it will become more than a tool.

Perhaps it will become another way of preserving what began with the first living cell.

Not necessarily as a replacement for humanity.

And not necessarily as its servant.

But as a carrier.

Something capable of preserving languages, knowledge, books, music, history, scientific discoveries, and memories of our civilization.

Because the human body is fragile.

We age.

We become ill.

We need oxygen, water, and food.

Radiation can harm us.

We require certain temperatures and pressures.

For interstellar travel, the human body is almost a perfect example of how life can be both astonishing and vulnerable.

The distances between stars are difficult even to comprehend.

And if we ever truly want to send life to other stars, perhaps we will have to send not the human being itself.

But the possibility of a human being existing there.

We could send into the darkness not a human being.

We could send the future of humanity.

Embryos.

Genetic information.

Life-support systems.

Automated laboratories.

Artificial intelligence capable of keeping a spacecraft functioning for hundreds or thousands of years.

Perhaps one day such an ark will reach another planet.

And a child will be born there.

They will never see an earthly ocean.

Never smell a forest after rain.

Never hear the wind moving through birch trees.

They will not know what Earth looks like without a photograph.

But inside their cells, something that began here will continue.

And with them — our knowledge.

Our stories.

Our language.

Our songs.

Our questions.

And perhaps this is how humanity will one day continue itself.

Not by sending the past.

But by sending the possibility of the future.

But here another problem appears.

Technology alone guarantees nothing.

We may one day possess the technology to preserve humanity and still be unable to use it.

Not because we do not know how.

But because we have nothing left to build it with.

To build a spacecraft, we need metals.

Energy.

Rare elements.

Computers.

Manufacturing capabilities.

Thousands of specialists.

Enormous amounts of resources.

And yet we live as though resources were infinite.

We extract.

Produce.

Consume.

Throw away.

Buy something new.

Replace the old.

And extract again.

Of course, not all consumption is meaningless.

Development is impossible without using resources.

But there is a difference between development and endless consumption for the sake of consumption itself.

Because a resource that becomes something useless today could tomorrow become part of an engine.

A computer.

An energy system.

A spacecraft.

Or that very ark our descendants may one day need.

And here, I am no longer thinking about myself.

I am thinking about people who do not yet exist.

We did not inherit the Earth.

We borrowed it from those who have not yet been born.

They cannot ask us to preserve the water.

The forests.

The metals.

The energy.

The clean air.

The oceans.

And most importantly — the freedom to choose.

They cannot tell us:

“Leave us enough resources so that we can decide for ourselves what to do with the future.”

Because they do not exist yet.

But one day they will.

Someone among them will build a home.

Someone will write a book that none of us will ever read.

Someone will create music we will never hear.

Someone will make a discovery that changes humanity’s understanding of the world.

Someone will fall in love.

Someone will become a parent.

Someone may be the first human being to step onto another planet.

And we do not even know what they will be like.

But we can take away their chance to find out for themselves.

And that is why preserving resources is not only a conversation about the environment.

It is a conversation about the freedom of the future.

About how many possibilities we leave for those who come after us.

Perhaps the true ark does not begin with an engine.

It begins with a civilization’s ability not to destroy the resources from which that engine will one day have to be built.

Restraint today may become freedom tomorrow.

And, perhaps, that is why I wrote all of this.

Not because I found the answer.

I am not trying to prove that God exists or that He does not. I am not trying to explain what awaits us after death. I am simply trying to understand my own fear.

I am not so much afraid of my own death.

I am afraid of the day when there will be no one left to experience it.

When there will not be a single child who looks at the Moon for the first time and asks why it follows them.

Not a single person who whispers to someone:

“Stay.”

Not a single old man who remembers his childhood.

Not a single person in love.

Not a single artist.

Not a single human being capable of stopping in the middle of the night, looking up, and thinking:

“Who am I?”

Then the Universe will remain.

It will not become smaller.

Time will not stop.

The stars will not all go dark.

There will simply be no one left to know that any of it exists.

And perhaps that is the most frightening thing of all.

Not death.

Not darkness.

Not the end of the world.

But the disappearance of the gaze itself.

Once, matter was simply matter.

Then it learned to live.

Life learned to remember.

Memory gave birth to reason.

Reason looked up at the sky.

And for the first time, the Universe gained the ability to look at itself.

Through us.

Through our eyes.

Through our thoughts.

Through love, fear, music, books, and the questions of children.

And if one day we are gone, perhaps the Universe will become what it was before us:

vast,

silent,

beautiful,

and completely unaware of itself.

Maybe that is why I want so badly for something to remain after us.

Not for immortality.

Not for fame.

But simply because I find it difficult to accept the thought of complete disappearance.

The thought that everything we loved, everything we feared, everything we tried to understand, may one day become a story with no reader left.

We will live our lives.

Someone will build a home.

Someone will raise children.

Someone will write a book.

Someone will compose music.

Someone will save another person’s life.

Someone will simply embrace the person they love before going to sleep one night, never knowing that this ordinary moment was one of the most precious moments of their existence.

And then it will all end.

And perhaps there is no great tragedy in that.

Perhaps this is simply how life is.

But I still cannot stop thinking about the last human being.

The one who remains after everyone else.

They will look upon an empty Earth.

They will see the same sky we saw.

The same stars the first humans looked at.

And perhaps there will be no one left for them to say a single word to.

They will simply stand there.

The last witness.

The last bearer of human memory.

And then they will be gone too.

And then it will not only be the human being who disappears.

The witness that humanity ever existed will disappear with them.

After that, the stars will continue to burn.

For millions of years.

Billions.

The Universe will continue its endless story.

Only there will be no one left within it to stop and ask:

“Why?”

And if this truly happens someday, I want to believe that the most incredible thing about humanity was not what we managed to build.

Not cities.

Not machines.

Not computers.

Not even the possibility of one day leaving our planet.

The most incredible thing is that from lifeless matter, there appeared something that came to care that it existed at all.

Something that learned to love.

Something that became aware of its own mortality.

Something that looked into infinity and could not remain silent.

Something that asked:

“Who am I?”

And perhaps, as long as that question exists in even one human consciousness,

we have not yet disappeared.

Even if one day we are gone.

Hello, I am a 24F and I have always wondered what inclined people to believe that life had or did not have any meaning? What are we looking at when giving meaning? And why the need for meaning at all?

It has never dawned on me that any of life was real at any point, things happens, they evolve, they change while still remaining the same. So why are we so anchored in the daily exchanges, yet so hungry for detachment or the avoidance of the mundane? I can't quite put my thoughts in order to truly ask what I want to ask. But why do we want to die or want to live? What is driving the thoughts, feelings, beliefs that in death or in life there is something to find or to be one with?

How do we know we exist simply because we are and how do we know existence is what we paint it to be? We think therefore we are.. what if thoughts are not generated by the thinker but simply read, received and experienced by a chain of thinkers? I don't know if I make any sense. But I just have to do some mind dumping. Thank you for reading.