A few months ago I had read an article that said the earth and the universe were to cease to exist in many millions of years. The time for the End was far way, and would probably never affect me at all, but that got me thinking. What is the point of this all? Of this life and everything we do? Of the books we write and the movies/documentaries we make? Of history? When history itself will become a history that will just disappear due to intergalatic activities, what is the true point of it?
It was a bit discouraging, that thought. I have always been a highly motivated person who wanted to write books that would keep generations happy and engaged. I have always wanted to make a long lasting impact, one that would remain even after I die. But this discovery made me falter in my steps. If everything were to just end, so would my stories. So will everything I have done, even if people continue carrying it, because those people themselves would be gone.
I began to question everything at that point. The rut and gut of life. The fierce competition to be the first. Running from one's house to get the early morning bus. Standing in line at 6 am to get the newest installation in a beloved series of books. Everything. Is there a meaning to it all? Will it finally amount to anything? Even if it does, isn't it going to end anyway? Permanently this time? Then what is the point?
I was in the middle of applying for my post graduate studies, and they required for me to write many stories and creative samples. As I wrote those and completed them, they filled me with an inexplicable warmth and satisfaction, that it is difficult to pin it down by words. They filled me with fire, raging, passionate fire, that motivated me to move forward, to push forward. I felt so happy, so proud of myself, that it was like as I was unstoppable.
Every friday, my family and I sit in the living room and have fun. We talk, we eat, we play games. I live for those moments, because I cannot explain the feeling I get then. It is surreal, something out of the world. At those times, we forget all the trials and tribulations in the world, our difficulties and personal issues and just laugh. My family probably doesn't even know how much those fridays mean to me, but they are my life. Nothing can compare to that.
One friday, after writing a sample I was particularly proud of, I sat down with my family at 5 in the evening simply to discuss something college related. This escalated to a lot more, as my sister started reading zodiac traits and all of us pondered over it, often breaking into uncontrollable laughter at reading about the various quirks all of us have. I had been planning on holing up in my room and reading, but that friday, I simply couldn't get up from the sofa in my living room. We laughed and we enjoyed. It was the time our lives.
That was when it struck me, the meaning of life. Even though it has a beginning and an end, it is not a sprint. It is a marathon. Life is made up of so many various moments that make it worthwhile. These moments might be so drastically different like feeling a surge of self worth for accomplishing something and spending time with those that you love. Regardless, they are moments worth living for. It doesn't matter if it ends, because ultimately, everything ends. Nothing lasts forever, and it is good to embrace this fact. It doesn't matter if the human race gets extinguished, or that no one will remember. But you know what? That doesn't change the truth.
That the human race thrived in their time on earth. They lived and they died and they cried. They accomplished so many different things, some, miraculous even. Ups and downs, happiness and sadness. Ultimately that is the beauty of the truth. Despite having an end, this race lived a wholesome, amazing, fantastic life. A journey of a lifetime. And maybe they did become stories in the end, but as said in Doctor Who, “We are all stories in the end. Just make sure it is a good one.”