From two nights ago, at the beach:
I’m looking at the night sky as I’m writing this. Tonight is one of those nights when I find myself thinking of the universe and how infinitely massive it is. And how insignificantly small I am. I look to the sky, to the stars, and I feel both overwhelmed and hopeful. Overwhelmed because when I think of the enormity of the universe and the limitations of time and of life, my existence means very little. I could know all there is to know about the world but the world will never know me. And it’s hard to feel like you matter in a world that doesn’t seem to think that you matter.
But at the same time, there is hope. To be a speck in this vastness is nonetheless to be a part of this incomprehensible and limitless space. And that has given me this ridiculously tempting belief that my responsibility now to the universe and to the God who created me is to do something great. To be someone worth remembering regardless of whether or not I am actually remembered.