Therefore I can never cease to be.
Because I do exist now, as a apparently conscious and aware being, the fact of my existence will always remain. I know I will die, my conscious life will eventually come to it's natural, somewhat terrifying end, but nothing can change the fact that I am eternal. My existence is now removed from the list of Cosmic Possibilities, and written to the list of the Things That Are. I am no longer a possible being, I am concrete existence draped in flesh and bones and all the intresting goo and slime that keeps this thing together, thinking and feeling, having sensory experiences on this world. Of course I can not be sure if this world is actually the Reality, or not, but because I don't know any better, I assume it is.
I don't really know why I started thinking of this, but I was thinking Descartes' "I think, therefore I am" statement. Being in itself is not enough, in my opinion. Being eternal is. And we all are, in this sense, eternal beings. We are just passing flashes of light, Manifests of Enthropy. But since enthropy keeps pushing all things from the small cage of simplicity towards the vast plains of complexity, we get to exist, and the Universe can add us to the list of Things That Are, and we get to be proud for our understaning and perception which are able to comprehend such concepts during our short-lived existence, the short flash of light. It makes this all seem so beautiful, it makes symbolic and seemingly meaningless words come alive. We can not understand the concepts of Infinity or Eternity, but we are playing our own part in creating such concepts.
We give them names, we give these names myths to fill their empty vessels with life, and still our own imagination is the place where all this began. It is where all our suffering began, but also where all our joy and hope got the igniting spark, the beginning of self-conscious human life, which as far as we know, is even universally a unique thing. Because you are born, you can never cease to be. Your existence will always remain a fact, you just are here to experience it anymore. The things we can't imagine, the people we can not think of, they are the ones I feel sorry for, since no one is there to miss them. But all these people, who live here now, and have lived here before, will be missed by someone else, and that is somewhat comforting thought. Because life is short, and bleak, and the end is always just few steps behind.