Deep Thoughts While Alone

Here I sit, sipping on some Disaronno on ice, girls are asleep, Zelda is snoring under the blanket, and the other half of my bed is empty because Rick is out of town. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s relaxing. It’s a contrast to Monday shifts at work.

But something is bothering me.

It’s not the fact I’m alone with the girls, though I’m always on high alert when Rick travels. Everything is locked and secured. We’re safe and warm and our bellies are full (too full, if you ask me. I mean, have you seen me? I’m huge). It’s not the fact I’m depressed about how I look (trying clothes on at Kohl’s was an eye-opener to me). It’s not even the fact I have to get up and handle everything that needs to be done around the house before and after work tomorrow, always putting myself last.

It’s the fact that, in my generation, we will never truly see what’s out there in the Universe.

I often look up at the sky at night and marvel at how beautiful the stars and planets are. I sometimes even shed a tear or two at the thought that I’ll never see space ships, that I’ll never see other species that are out there, waiting to be found or even on their way to find us.

We will never truly see that we’re not alone out there.

We’re not alone. How arrogant are we as a species to think that we’re the only kind of life that lives in this ever-expanding blanket of cosmos? How dare we, humans, think we’re the smartest, top of the food chain, when there are most definitely other lifeforms out there, probably thinking the same thing?

Having an open mind to the possibilities, a deep desire to see what’s beyond our minuscule little planet, and being cursed with not having answers truly saddens me. With our extremely great and wise leader (the sarcasm here is palpable, isn’t it?), the chances of even having a human presence on the moon again, or even Mars, seems highly unlikely. On top of that, our technology isn’t even near what it needs to be for true space travel, and it breaks my heart that I will never see it happen.

I’ve been listening to, reading, and watching theories on space and how the universe is expanding to the point where planets and starts will run out of power and cool down, eventually leaving nothing but black holes to juggle their corpses around, only to then extinguish themselves and leave the universe in complete darkness and covered in cosmic carcasses. It’s a truly beautiful ending to something so mysterious, and though I will absolutely never know how it ends, I find it relatively soothing.

Everything has to end eventually. It may take trillions and trillions and trillions and trillions and trillions of years to end, but it will.

My only regret as a frail little human is that I will only live for another 60 years or so, if I’m lucky, and that I will forever wonder what it’s like out there. I will never set foot on a different planet. I will never see a star with my own two eyes. I am a prisoner of my own imagination and creativity, bound to always wonder what’s out there and what part we humans have to play in this majestic game of chess.

I can only hope humanity advances to the point of space travel and finds out the answers I’m searching for. Even if I’m not here to witness it all. Life seems pretty pointless otherwise, without a great meeting with a new intelligent species. Even if I can’t say I saw it happen.

This really bothers me a lot.

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