At the Center of the Universe

By Skylar Nipper

In my time being dead, I have learned three fundamental truths:

#1-A: Life isn’t fair.

#2-A: There is no limit to despair.

#3-A: No one can save you.

At the center of the universe, there is a pit. In my time being dead, I have explored this pit. I have found three fundamental truths of this pit:

#1-B: It is endless.

#2-B: No matter how deep you go, it stays the same.

#3-B: There is no mercy within the pit.

At the center of the universe, there is a pit that does not care about you. It is not recognized or acknowledged by most people too afraid to look into it and speak aloud to themselves that what they see is true. This is an understandable reaction, as looking into the pit is something akin to dying—the death of your old life, your old hopes. Looking into the pit means acknowledging that you are small, and it is big. It means accepting that, in the end, it is meaningless.

At the center of the universe, there is a meaningless pit, where the words “before” and “after” mean nothing, and where life leaves no footsteps behind. If you were to slip into the pit, you would find that you would fall forever. You will say to yourself, “Surely I will hit the bottom and climb my way back up. Surely I will find something at the bottom. Surely, surely, surely,” but remember Fundamental Truth #1-B: It is endless.

At the center of the universe, you are falling; and falling, and falling, and falling, until it almost feels like floating. You wait for someone to find you, for a rope to be thrown down to you, ready for you to grab to be lifted out. You hear nothing. You see nothing. Fundamental Truth #3-B: There is no mercy within the pit. You expect to hear the pit whispering cruel things to you, to find a monster waiting to attack. You aim your anger and despair into the darkness that now surrounds you. The pit does not care about you. It does not care that you are inside of it. You are there, and that is it.

At the center of our universe is a pale blue dot; a small, miniscule dot in the middle of a vast emptiness. In my time being dead, I have spent many hours asking the pit about this. The pit did not answer. Fundamental Truth #3-A: No one can save you. The fact sits exactly as it appears—the pale blue dot is small, in the grand scheme. We are small. There is nothing more to know. 

At the center of the universe, I saw darkness. I was within the pit, and what I found was darkness. Woven in the fabric of that darkness was despair—human, mortal despair. I said to myself, “Surely I will hit the bottom and climb my way back up. Surely I will find something at the bottom. Surely, surely, surely,” but I did not. I waited for someone to find me, for a rope to be thrown down to me, ready for me to grab to be lifted out. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. I expected to hear the pit whispering cruel things to me, to find a monster waiting to attack. I aimed my anger and despair into the darkness that now surrounded me. The pit did not care. Fundamental Truth #2-A: There is no limit to despair.

At the center of the universe, nothing changed inside the pit. Fundamental Truth #2-B: No matter how deep you go, it stays the same. Me falling endlessly through the darkness did not change a thing. My existence within the pit was meaningless. In my time being dead, I felt my mind shatter and rebuild itself. I no longer saw things as I did before. Learning these truths broke something within me, rearranged the bricks that made up the world as I knew it. 

At the center of the universe, there are people unaware of the pit. They believe that there is an end point of despair, a savior waiting to throw them a rope. Fundamental Truth #1-A: Life isn’t fair. These people live blissfully unaware of the daunting, unending pit at the center of all they know. They have most likely spent time in the pit, but have not fallen far enough to start to realize that this pit will never end. 

At the center of the universe, there is a person realizing. The process of realizing the qualities of the pit is something that breaks you. Immortal, omniscient, non-human beings cannot be broken by this knowledge. Purpose, justice, mercy, and endings are things unknown to them—but a human spirit wants to believe that it matters, that there is justice, and mercy, and an end. When I dragged myself out of that pit, bloodied and weak, there was something different in my eyes, something shattered, something distant. I no longer felt anyone could understand the way I saw the world through my broken gaze, and something became very clear; Fundamental Truth #3-A: No one can save you.

These fundamental truths—#1-B, #3-B, #3-A, #2-A, #2-B, #1-A—are weaved into every piece that makes up who I have become after falling forever in the pit. There are parts of me that are built with the same darkness of the despair found within the pit, and that darkness makes a surprisingly comfortable blanket. 

In my time being dead, I learned how to survive. The pit is terrifying, yes, but only when you attempt to fight it. You will not win. The pit is dark, and endless, and merciless, but you are not. You do not have to be. After all, we have something that immortal, omniscient, non-human beings do not: Guts. Determination. A will to have light, laughter, and love. You cannot wait for the pit at the center of the universe to give those to you. You must make them yourself.

If you are reading this, and you understand what I am saying, from one dead person to another:

Fundamental Truth #1-C: You exist.

By Skylar Nipper