We live on a planet locked in space. But we're not locked in time. We are trapped on Earth, while time spins away. We are simply a speck in space. Everything that has happened, has happened on our speck. Our greats wars, loves, and our memories all take place here. We live in a world surrounded by mystery, yet we take our lives as the most prominent piece of existence. We are important, but only through our own eyes - only through our limited perspective. We live here thinking our days are special, that they amount to something. But the something they amount to is still on that speck. Our speck. Afar we are all just organisms creating an ecosystem that offers comfort and extra-curriculars. Our lives only matter if they contribute to the system we have created. If we function accordingly, we have importance. But how can anything we do, even if the action is big - saving lives, curing cancer, ending poverty - mean anything in the universe? How does my soul mean anything when there is so much around us? So why do we try to work hard, impress, and consume when out there, outside of our speck, is something greater? Even the nothingness which engulfs our galaxy could mean more than the thoughtful drain we place on ourselves. Even nothing is something.
