Have you seen a picture taken on the surface of an asteroid? You'd probably imagine an unnaturally smooth landscape, like the skin of an alien space potato. You'd be wrong, actually. It looks like you're on earth, like you are over some demented tide pool, except there's no water. Then, you'd look up from the ground and see the stars. God, the stars. They're so beautiful. They're terrifying. It's like looking up from earth into the starry night sky except you aren't on the earth nor is it the sky that you're looking at. You're on an asteroid looking forward into cold, deep space. Alone.

I... I don't quite know how to expand on this idea. It's just too frightening to think of an eternity spent in absolute solitude. Though, I guess I'd eventually go insane, would probably stop thinking or fall into a coma. It kinda reminds me of a film called It's Such a Beautiful Day. In the ending, the main character, the average joe named Bill, becomes immortal, far outliving the Earth, the Sun, and all the stars in the universe. He forgets everything during that span of time, his life as a human faded to a memory of a memory that is of a memory with a recursion that is, for all intents and purposes, infinite. He isn't sad that he'd forgotten, though, and that's probably for the best.

Staring into the abyss makes a person think. No matter how hard they stare, there will never be anything comprehendable. Though, is it so bad that we can't comprehend everything? Instead of staring above or ahead, why not look around us? Perhaps, what we have right now is just enough. Of course, if we're in a bad situation, we'll pull ourselves out of it, but when peace has settled in, let's take comfort in what we have rather than covet the heavens above or the future ahead. Let's remember our peace.