A little while ago, a friend of mine said, “You know what death is like?” 

“Not having died,” I said. “No.” 


“Come again?’ 

“It’ll just be one big nothing,” he said. “Do you remember what you were like before you were born?” 


“Death will be just like that. Going back to that nothing.”  

“So,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “You believe you came from nothing?” 


“No previous lives? You weren’t the king of France or his scullery maid?” 

“Reincarnation? That’s a fairy tale.” 

“Well,” I said. “Lots of people would disagree with you, but let’s stick with the ‘from nothing part.'”

“Uh oh,” my friend said. “I’ve got you started.” 

“Can you make something out of nothing?” 


“You cannot,” I continued. “It’s impossible. The gulf beyond something and nothing is an infinite qualitative difference. To be fair, even ‘nothing’ is something. But you’re talking about a nothing that we can’t even comprehend. NO THING.”

“Are you going to talk about God now?”

“Not at all,” I said. “But if you were, as you say, nothing before you were born and, since the difference between nothing and something is an unbridgeable gap, then anything that emerges from that abyss, void, or whatever you want to call it, is different from nothing on an infinite qualitative level. So, even if all that remains of you after the universe has cooled to an soup of elementary particles a zillion years from now is the forgotten fact that you were once here – that tiny sliver of something would still be infinitely greater than the nothing from which you say you emerged.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Logic’s a bitch, my friend. If you came from nothing then it’s impossible for you to ever be nothing again.”  

“You’re very strange.” 

“So is making something out of nothing.” I said. “But we’re here anyway.” 

Share This

Share This

Share this post with your friends!