I just wanted to let you know that the post you wrote in PKGamer's thread in "Life Advice" really spoke to me. In a nutshell, I'm a thanatophobe and I suffer the occasional panic attack about the finiteness of life, the universe, and everything. I'm scared about the end of myself, and the end of everything, because I know that both of these things are absolute truths. Whether or not I lead a good life, no matter what I learn, or what we accomplish as a species... whether I live out the full span of my natural days, or end it sooner-- nothing makes a difference because there's no meaning to any of it. Nothing matters. The whole thing terrifies me. Some people hate the thought of eternity, but I'm the opposite: I truly wish everything were endless. The fact that everything will go cold and stop one day leaves a frozen horror in the core of my heart whenever I think on it.
For me, it is very hard to come up with ways to stay positive with this knowledge. But occasionally I hear or read something by somebody else who seems to understand the absurdity of life exactly how I see it, and I feel... not so alone in this. It reminds me that happiness and meaningfullness are very much human concepts, and as such, it can only exist if we create and assign it ourselves, because it doesn't exist out there in nature. Nature is cold... violent... unfeeling. It doesn't care that we're sentient, or afraid to die. We are as pointless as the next living organism, and rot all the same when we die. We have no purpose, and when we die, life doesn't mourn-- it doesn't even notice.
But. There's also this stunning, heartbreaking... beauty in absolutely everything. Even the bad stuff. Life is fascinating. It's vast, beyond anything our limited brains can imagine. It has existed for eons, and will continue for a while longer yet. It's the most profound mystery, why any of it is even here to begin with, but inspiring beyond belief that such a simple beginning, guided by the random chaos of cause/effect, has spawned a universe so vast and diverse and complex.
And I'm part of it, inside it. It's inside me. I just... started existing one day, and I don't know why. I don't know how I got here. I don't know what "I" am, even. I know there's probably no greater reason behind it, just pure random chance, but what a chance, though...! To exist, to experience something so incredible. To experience anything at all. What luck I had to even be born! And as a human, no less. And what better luck than to be born in this century of enlightenment, into an affluent economic society, and be able to live such a relatively carefree life that I can even afford to spend time pondering the meaninglessness of myself and everything around me? There are billions and billions of species of life on this planet, and here is where the dice roll put me: my one chance at life could've been literally anything, but it was this, it was here, now. Human.
I mean, that's gotta count for something, hasn't it? My life, my one existence: I am a person, capable of comprehending and questioning and wondering and fearing and learning everything there is about this existence. This is what I cling to. This is what makes life worth living to me. And sometimes I forget it; my mind slips, and I'm in that dark place again, knowing that I don't matter, and I'll die, and it terrifies me... but then I read a post like yours and I remember: life has meaning, we GIVE IT meaning! It'll always mean something to me, as long as I'm alive and capable of observing it. I am grateful (to nothing and everything) that I existed. And as much as I fear death, it is a small price to pay to have been here and seen life with human eyes. It's never really mattered to me that there's so much pain and horror in the world, because I see meaning even in those terrible things. There's no end of beautiful things in this life to feel good about when I'm blue. I just focus on the good stuff and push everything else out of my mind, because the only meaning life really has is the one we give it.