This planet is like Rome: all roads lead to it.
I have been trying to escape from this wretched world for as long as I had any agency. As soon as I stared up into the stars, I saw true cosmic significance. It isn't here, on this planet. Whatever you want to call it — Earth, Terra, Gaia, this tellurian sphere. I want out. I do not think of the dirt below me as anything other than a launch, at best. At worst it is a cage, holding me down and keeping me from ascension.
Think about infinity. Think about how vast space is, and how meaningless our little blue dot is in the ultimate scheme of things. A speck of dirt, perhaps. Nothing more.
I continued through the palace, working my way deeper and deeper to the core, only to find myself confronted with a terrible reality. It was not terrible in the sense that it was strange to me, devoid of the logic and reason that I was used to. Nay! I could have lived with that! I have built my life around that principle!
No!
As I grew nearer to the center, the hallways righted themselves. They flattened out and shrank. The ground took upon order. I passed through masses of horrors, trying my best to ignore their ever more human shapes. Their countless limbs reduced to four, their horrid visages taking up a single pair of eyes, a single nose and far too familiar lips. They reduced themselves from planets until we stood on equal footing.
I continued on, until I reached those doors. The doors to the heart. Doors that were not shaped for a horror. Doors that were shaped for mortal men.
I opened them and I was greeted by the most horrific thing I had ever seen.
I had sought God.
I found my home. Not a new home to adopt. The old one. The one I was running away from.
Our world. This world. Nestled at the heart of it all, like a crown jewel. Sitting upon it's pedestal, at the center of it all. I stared at it for what must have been aeons, letting the time slip by before me. It did not move. It did not react. It simply sat in its priviledged position, the blind idiot.
I fled from the palace. I caused a commotion. The party stopped, as I ran through screaming. They listened to me. Those colossi, so big I could not even see more than a fragment. They stopped what they were doing and cared about me. They tried to stop me, their writhing forms nothing but gentle. I was not an insect to be crushed beneath them. I was more important than anything they had ever seen. A precious work of art.
Do you get it?
The universe is cold. It is cruel, random and vast. It is meaningless in it's grandeur. There was never a grand architect, never a design to put things together.
And yet: we are the center of it all.