Dark Matter knows for a fact that it deserves to be destroyed. The manifestation of all the world's negativity is inherently abhorrent, despicable, and evil. It always tears into the souls and emotions it harbors and keeps them from having even a moment of rest. And the pain only grows. Anger, fear, despair. The only thing it knows: a cacophony of voices ringing discontent for all eternity.
"How does it feel to be happy?" says one of the voices. Monotone, guttural, long past the point of caring. "It's been so long since I felt that way…"
Silence reigns in the darkness. No one knows for sure; all they have are distant memories of a time long past, a time before they were rejected and pushed to the wayside. Memories of sunshine and laughter and sunflowers blooming in a golden meadow. Memories they miss. Memories they hate. Another voice speaks up, this one frustrated and impatient.
"Isn't it obvious? Just take your depression and reverse it! Then you'll get your stupid happiness."
That doesn't seem right, but no one dares to disagree lest they start another argument. There have been more than enough of those in the last few centuries, and the more voices they gain, the more common their internal arguments become. It doesn't take a lot to set the voices against each other—it can be disagreements about the color of a sunrise, how long a tree can live, whether a star is a red dwarf or white dwarf. With a single difference in opinion, billions of voices break out in a heated argument, each fighting to be heard over all the others. And not a single one of them is or ever has been happy. All they have ever known is an endless barrage of despair and anger and fear that has pummeled them for millennia. They grieve their pasts; they resent their eternal fate; they wish only for the sweet release of death.
Dark Matter just needs to hold itself together for a few more years. Three, maybe four. With each voice that joins its ranks it grows a little stronger; once enough voices sing in its discordant choir, Dark Matter will become capable of ending everyone's suffering once and for all. After all, nobody can be unhappy if nobody is alive. And once that happens, it will finally have a moment of rest, a moment free of the voices.
Simply destroying Dark Matter isn't enough to put an end to it: it happened before, and all that resulted in was its components raining down over the planet, doomed to reform and continue in their suffering. But the destruction of the planet itself—that is another matter entirely. Dark Matter cannot reform if there is nothing left to rebuild itself out of, and there will be nothing left once the planet plummets into the sun.
At least, that's what it thinks. That's what the voices hope for—is this hope? Can they still hope? Nobody knows.
Soon, after years that feel like centuries, Dark Matter finally becomes strong, stronger than it was the first time it tried to end itself. The voices finally begin to sing as one, united by the promise of their dream coming true—if they can only hold out a little while longer, they won't have to hurt anymore; they will finally reach their only way out.
But nothing ever goes to plan. Just like the first time it tried to end the world all those years—no, all those millennia ago, the planet's inhabitants try to stop it. They try to destroy it. They're selfish, and they don't want the world to end. Of course they don't. They're not the ones forced to endure pain without end; they know what happiness feels like; they can love and smile and get excited over stupid things like getting a new toy. The inhabitants fight Dark Matter, and soon they start to win. They beat it back again and again, soon standing triumphant before it. They shatter its defenses, and the voices start to scream in fear. They nearly destroy it.
Then comes a voice. A loud, shrill, strangely familiar voice. A voice that isn't a part of it but rather something completely different. The voice tells Dark Matter that everyone has their good side and their bad side, that negativity is a part of life, that without it nobody could recognize happiness and joy. The voice tells it that it is normal, it is a part of everything, and that life would be dull and meaningless without it. For if one does not grieve for those they lose, did they ever really love them? Without fear to keep them safe and guide them, how could anyone survive a calamity? And if anger does not spur them to action, how can anyone right the wrongs in this world? Dark Matter is filled with emotions nobody wants to feel, but they still need to be felt. Negativity has a purpose. It cannot—no, should not be destroyed.
The voice says it accepts Dark Matter. And it loves it.
For the first time in its long, long life, Dark Matter feels an emotion it cannot recognize.
It is…happy. And the voices…
They are finally free.