In the beginning there was nothing. A cold, energy-less void that was neither space nor substance, existence nor nonexistence. I don't remember how I came to be in that emptiness. It's one of the few things I will never know. I only know that when I was born, I was pure energy. I exploded into life like an inferno, ravaging through my own spacetime at breakneck speed, creating matter and existence everywhere I went. All around me was a sweltering heat. A burning that demanded to be fed, to consume everything it encountered. A burning that I was both immersed in and made of.
It was, in a word, incredible. I cannot even begin to describe it. The power. The energy. I was the source of everything. Pure creation flowed out of me. I ricocheted throughout the universe, my universe, in an orgy of conception. I was hotter than the suns, faster than light, more powerful than a hypernova. I was more everything than anything that had ever existed or would ever exist for the rest of time. Just the memory of it makes me tremble.
I had only experienced it for a few seconds. But I will never forget that feeling. I have longed for it nearly every moment since, and will continue to long for it for the rest of my life.
And then, just like that, it was over. I felt my speed start to slow. My creative force began to cool. I continued to shake with the force of what I had just experienced, but soon, even that effort seemed excessive. I felt around. Compared to what I had been, I was almost completely powerless. After realizing what had happened, I slumped into listlessness. I had barely been born, but already I desperately mourned what had been. I craved it. For that energy. For that creation. I waited, hoping against hope for it to return.
But it did not. So, not knowing what to do, I peered out over existence. Despite my depression, I could tell it was beautiful. Without my even having been aware, I had created causality, atoms and gravity. Matter, space and time. Everything that existed had not been present a few seconds before. Watching the energy move, I had a sense that things were becoming more stable. I could see how the universal maxims I had unknowingly created caused everything to ebb and flow. To create and destroy. To take energy and release it. It was perfect. Everything moving in perfect harmony.
I felt a surge of deep devotion. I loved it. I couldn't deny that I loved it. But that love was soon replaced by agony and frustration. Because I realized that my love of this world meant that I could never burn again. To burn that brightly would be to destroy all of existence. The harmony I had just created. I knew I couldn't do it. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not consume my creation.
I squirmed under the weight. I was no longer free. I was responsible. For all of it. I was a father.
