This is the dark truth of naturalism, and one of the reasons I hoped for some kind of continuity (anything really) was because oblivion and insignificance is (for me at least) a far greater cosmic horror than being a slave / food for Great Cthulhu (Ia! 🐙🌊🌠) Being a figment of Azathoth’s dream gets closer, but even then, the mind of God might notice me.

These days I’m an absurdist trying to make sense of the senslessness of the material. The cool thing is so long as I don’t resort to the other options, I’m doing the thing, as crazy as it is.