Who am I? What am I doing here? No, no, not here in this room, not here in college, on this podium, up here talking to you, but here, on this earth, this rock, this place… in a seemingly infinite abyss of nothingness, darkness, blackness.
I look out into the stars, the heavens and think about everything that exists to this day. I cannot even fathom the scale of the universe.
Thinking about the world still give me shivers. It makes me feel small, insignificant, like a single drop of water in a vast ocean. No, like an oxygen atom in a water molecule in that drop of water in that vast ocean. What am I in the presence of our sun or great Betelgeuse, one of the brightest stars in the Galaxy?! What am I but an tiny inkblot, a mistake, on the huge canvass of our universe?
I think about these things, but I also think about the opposite.
It seems miraculous that in this huge expanse, there is anything at all, but not just anything, me. My body, my mind, my atoms that were created in a big bang, and huge explosion in the beginning of time. Those atoms, fused together, are now in me, make up me. . . Here. In this universe, on this planet, in this class, in this room.
But that doesn’t answer my question. Who am I? I don’t know if I’ll ever know, but I will always know that I’m here, now. And I’m going to make the best of it.