For some reason, I have recently begun to question the point of it all (again). Potentially due to the coronavirus that has kept me at home for the past few months, my mood has become fairly depressed, and that has led me to question the meaning of existence.

When I’m working on something, all the issues that I’m facing seem superficial and irrelevant. I just cannot bring myself to care when the end result is the void. Or is it? The uncertainty of what happens after life ends should be more disturbing, but the fact is that the void is what scares me most. I have a hard time accepting that at some point I’ll just not be.

There’s nothing really inherently different about that and going to bed in the evening, in that I’m not certain whether I will wake up, but the me that goes to sleep is pretty certain that he’ll wake up again the next morning. Because I’m so certain that that person will still be me (even if it is not, for all we know we die and get recreated every night), I don’t have to worry about it.

What happens after death feels much more permanent, mostly because I’ve never seen anyone wake up from the dead.

After thinking about that more, I came to the conclusion that that might be true for every moment I’m alive. The me that is typing this now, ceases to exist every next moment, and is replaced by a new version of me that has the same memories as the earlier me, with the addition of typing just a single letter. This line of mes is stretching back and forth across time, right back up until the point where I’m conceived, and forward into the ages until I die.

In the past I’ve been content with just having these years that I’ve already had, and the years that will still come (hopefully), but the equation has changed, likely due to some sort of magic brain chemistry. It seems a bit of a silly idea to try and get medicine for this again, because it’ll just make me forget about my own mortality. Maybe if I’m aware of the fact I’ll feel compelled to do something about it. Then again, the fear and uncertainty are absolutely paralyzing, so maybe people are not meant to think about this. Or maybe something/someone does not want us to think about it.

Then I’m off to the entire world being a simulation. Which again begs the question, why?!

I want to believe in God. I really do, and it’s easy to believe in some god, some entity somewhere that has created the entire universe. I don’t really hold with things happening spontaneously. Then obviously death would not have to be the end, since all the rules of creation have been determined by someone, so they can be changed any time.

But will they care? When we spin up a virtual world to play World of Warcraft in, do we care about the NPC characters that get killed and respawned every second? What if humans are the same? And we’re just the NPC’s in some 5 dimensional beings’ game engine, with our thinking not really something to be considered sentient, to be discarded or shut off at any time they want (if such a concept indeed exists to them).