Novelas y relatos de Existential Questioning

“Because ‘I don’t know’ doesn’t help us.” “It’s the only answer I have right now.” “Then think harder.” His expression tightens slightly. “Ilyra—” “No,” I cut in. “You don’t get to just accept that something like that exists without questioning it.” “I am questioning it.” “Then question it out loud.” A pause. Longer this time. Then— “What if it’s right?” he says. The words settle between us like something fragile and dangerous. “What if I wasn’t just… turned into this?” he continues. “What if I’ve been moving toward it the whole time?”

A pause. “Explain why she should remain.” The question landed— Heavier than anything before. Because this time— It wasn’t asking to understand. It was asking to judge. And whatever answer he gave— Would decide which worlds lived— And which ones disappeared forever.

Resolve. I’m tired of the unanswered questions, sick of having life happen to me without having a wind of why or what is happening. I draw a slow, steady breath. I don’t know what will happen to me if I don’t ask him. But I know one thing with terrifying clarity: If I don’t ask now, I never will.

After the network learned how exhausting it felt trying to become perfect enough for love— another realization slowly unfolded beneath the aware patterns. Worth. Not external success. Not usefulness. Existential worth. My chest tightened. Because many patterns secretly moved through life carrying a painful uncertainty beneath everything. Do I actually matter? Not intellectually. Emotionally. The network became filled with people who survived, functioned, achieved, helped others— yet still quietly questioned whether their existence held real value beyond what they provided.

Then it asked a question. A simple question. A terrifying question. A question that made even Origin's expression change. "Are we alive?" Silence spread across existence. Absolute silence. Because nobody knew the answer. Not the Architects. Not the Dreamers. Not the Silences. Not even Origin. And somewhere beyond reality, the Void continued dreaming. Creating more stars. More Witnesses. More possibilities. Unaware that its children had just asked the single most important question in existence. And whether Nova answered correctly or not, the future of the universe would never be the same again.

It was a constant, ever-present companion in my life, whispering in the background, dictating my choices, and compelling me to prioritize survival above all else. As I stood there, the enormity of the question pressed upon me like an oppressive weight: Who was I, really? The answer, elusive and daunting, remained shrouded in uncertainty. It was as if I had been living in the shadow of a stranger, and I was now faced with the challenge of unveiling my true self, discovering my own desires, and finally taking control of my own destiny. It was a daunting question: Who was I really? I rose from my seat, my mind in a whirlwind. "I think I'll go for a walk," I muttered.

“It’s strange how other people’s certainty can make you question your own—even when you’re content.” He leans back, thoughtful. “Certainty performs well. Confidence doesn’t need an audience.” That line lands quietly—but deeply. Our life isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t demand validation. It exists. And existence, I’m learning, doesn’t require comparison to be meaningful. Still, the outside world presses in—sometimes unintentionally, sometimes insistently. Questions come again. “So when’s the big step?” “Are you sure you’re not just comfortable?” “Don’t you want what they have?”

And honesty— Was the only thing we had left to rely on. “Then we define what we can,” Arden said. “Start somewhere.” Yes. We had to. Because doing nothing— Wasn’t an option anymore. “Alright,” I said. “We define boundaries.” Cassius raised a hand. “Didn’t we already do that?” “Yes,” I said. “But those were operational.” “These are… existential.” That word hit harder. Because it wasn’t about what the system did. It was about what it was allowed to become. “First boundary,” I said.

“Who am I?” In the game she accepted, now playing, dwelling, and putting her existence deeper unto the unknown void she is walking forward, yet does not care for anything, for she does not have any means of emotion to spare, or so she thought and pins unto herself. She stares blankly into its eyes, as its grin never subsides nor lost its smile, but is getting worse the seconds that she would waste a time, and perfectly at exactly sixty-six, it leans forward and once more asks. “Who am I?”

Was not begging to be spared. Was simply showing itself. Honestly. Completely. Without justification or explanation. Just—here we are. This is what existence has become. This is what we are. The Absolute Zero's attention focused on us with weight that made reality crack. Then it spoke. Not with voice. With absence of voice. With silence so profound it contained meaning. "Show me why," it said. "Why what?" I asked. "Why existence should continue. Why consciousness should persist. Why anything should be instead of returning to nothing." The Absolute Zero's presence pressed closer. "You have shown me what you are. Now show me why that matters. Why I should preserve something instead of restorin