Just a brief moment, a fleeting instant in the infinite universe—that’s all we are. I feel lost in it again, small and insignificant. It happens during dinner, just before we finish, when I notice something shifting inside me. It creeps from the center to the edge, shifting its center of gravity and upsetting the balance of my world.

In that moment, I feel the infinite void of existence, which has become such a central part of me. I haven’t been fooling myself; it hasn’t disappeared just because it hasn’t shown itself in recent weeks. I know all too well that I can count on its return. But I never know when it will walk through the door. Yet I recognize it immediately when it appears.

The truth is that we are all alone in the world, except in those precious moments when we are not. That moment can be a person who is dear to us or an activity we immerse ourselves in with deep passion, and then the great realization seems smaller or even vanishes entirely. It is in these moments that the emptiness no longer hurts and loneliness is no longer an enemy. They slip through my fingers and dissolve. And when I lose them, I fall. And I fall. And fall.