History tells us a simple tale, that of a man and his willingness to survive. His primal urges tuned to the benefit of prolonging life. Each breath brings oxygen to his lungs, through his blood to his brain. The brain signals the heart to beat, and the lungs to expand. They oblige the request and the cycle continues. A self-fulfilling harmony to preserve life.

The man wakes with the sun, he stares into the endless expanse above him. The morning sky stretches to infinity. In it's presence, the man can see every outcome of his life, every opportunity he will ever have, every thought that's crossed his mind, and every feeling he will ever feel. He briefly closes his eyes as the morning sun radiates his skin with a pleasant warmth. As he takes another breath, he is greeted with the smell of meadow grass and pine trees letting go of their aromas to the same warmth that caresses his skin.

His eyes open once again to gaze into the expanse. As he focuses on the endlessness, all the possibilities above him begin to fade away. He will never rightfully experience all that he is capable of. The vastness of his potential engulfs him like the rays from the sun and dilute his existence to nothing more than a drop of blood in the ocean; and as entropy falls upon it, all form is lost to the tides of time. Blood becomes water, proteins decay, molecules separate, and all is forgotten… always.

The man takes another blissful breath, perfectly content in his limited reality. The warmth of the sun envelops the ever-expanding coldness of his ocean. As he begins to exhale, he does the unthinkable. The muscles in his abdomen begin to contract. His elbows find their way behind him. His palms connect with the warm grass and prop him upright. His legs fold in front of him as he leans forward. His arms soon follow and he plants his fists beside him. He pushes the world away from him as his legs unfurl and propel him towards the vastness above. His feet, now planted firmly on the ground, hold his weight against gravity, against nature itself.

He looks to the ground behind him, where his body once lay. Blades of grass spring up one by one, having been relieved of his presence. As he stares intimately, he begins to see one of the possibilities he left behind. His corpse stares back at him with hollow eyes. The warmth of the sun embraces its cold skin. The man smiles contently and turns away. With each step he takes, the drop of blood diffuses evermore into his ocean. The nothingness of the possibility he left behind equally matching the nothingness of that which he walks towards.