will die

I had this realization that I had lived many many times before. I also gather that I will live this life, making translations, having children and dealing with loss and then one day whether or not I admit it or not, I'm going to die having lived a life that actually means nothing in the general scheme of things. A pale blue dot maybe. This feeling that I failed as an individual to have a meaningful purpose will linger in the air until I die. Then it will mean absolutely nothing. The fact that I torment myself each and every day, mumbling to myself that I should have lived a life that mattered more would be like a silly joke because it would mean nothing exactly. We would vanish. This will be in a manner that resembles a leaf falling from a tree or the first snow of the winter. It would be so natural and serene yet insignificant.