Most of us resent our own trait of neglecting the future for the sake of impulse, but it is what makes us beautiful.

The idea of the end of the world pervades our collective consciousness thoroughly. As a self-centered species, the concept of individual death is already at the forefront of our thoughts; naturally, this lends itself well to how seriously the concept of large-scale death is taken. The thought of our species ending is tragic to us, and we never stop to take in our culture's meager window of existence the way we take in a compelling novel or a film: There is a beginning, and there is a middle, and there is an end. It's not tragic - rather, it's perfection of the flow of time through existence as creation's art.

Human beings worry that the world will end during their lifetimes. Sometimes they worry about a meteorite striking the Earth and vaporizing us all back into whatever cosmic ether we came from, and sometimes they worry that our governments will flip an array of switches and burn society from the surface of the world in mass atomic fire.

Any concern that nature (nature, of course, including cosmic forces) will intervene in our individual lives is purely self-centered because, as individual beings, we are absolutely nothing. Indeed, as a species, we are nothing, and as a planet, we are nothing. The Universe is vast and complex beyond the ability of a Human mind to comprehend, and its workings do not pay us any mind. We do not exist just because of it, but also in spite of it, which lends our existence an exquisite dichotomy.

Given the exponential expansion of our biomass across the world, we are far more likely to see our own growth kill us than any external force could. Those of us lucky enough to witness the end of Humanity should, perhaps, be grateful for it. Who, after all, enjoys tuning into a movie part of the way through and then turning it off before the climax?