Why have I been born into this incalculably-vast universe for this infinitesimally-small sliver of time? What is the point of having the intellectual Ware-With-All to conceptualize my absolute insignificance to the universe and my inescapable erasure from it?
There are hundreds of billions of stars in just this galaxy…. and then, hundreds of billions of galaxies in the observable universe. The cold-hard truth is that: nothing anyone can ever do, or has ever done, in the history of life on this planet, can ever have the possibility of being significant enough to leave, even the slightest trace, that any of us ever existed. What’s worse: even if some other being in the universe had the knowledge of our existence, the entire universe will (without question) eventually burn out, disintegrate and decay out of existence. The only shred of hope is the slim chance that there are multiple universes. That being true, the probability that another, life-supporting universe would intersect this one, is minuscule. What is worse: is that even in the unlikely event that all of these preconditions were somehow met, it is currently believed to be impossible to access (or even share information with) another universe, given our current understanding of the laws of physics.
With this in mind, I see no good reason to get out of bed and expend my hard-won energies on lessening the entropy of this ungrateful universe.
