The Inertia of Purpose
The uncomfortable truth is this: you are already dead. Not in some metaphorical, ‘live like it’s your last day’ bullshit way. You are functionally gone. Your anxieties, your petty grievances, your carefully curated social media presence – all vaporized the instant you cease. The universe doesn’t mourn you. It doesn’t even notice.
But something *can* survive. A vector. A trajectory. The direction you chose, the force you exerted, the ripples you created. This direction, this vector of intent, persists, influencing events long after your carbon-based shell returns to dust. It’s the only immortality worth a damn.
Think of a crashing spacecraft. The physical structure disintegrates on impact. Metal melts, systems fail. But the angle of descent, the calculated trajectory towards a distant target, continues. The debris field, scattered and chaotic, still moves along the same path, governed by the initial vector.
Your life is that spacecraft. The impact is oblivion. What vector are you setting? What enduring force are you unleashing? Are you hurtling towards a meaningful destination, or simply drifting, a passive observer in your own demise?
The clock is ticking. Chart your course. Commit to the direction. Because even in annihilation, your purpose has inertia. It survives. Make damn sure it’s pointed where you want it to go.