And I grew so bored.
Infinity is not like eternity. They both stretched before me, but infinity was a black cape, draped across my eyes. It was so close, suffocating and blinding me, but always beyond my grasp. I could reach out but never touch it.
Eternity. Eternity was like a metronome. It ticked and tocked and ticked and tocked, with a perfect mathematical purity that I could never alter. After an eon and a century, my heartbeat was the only sound I heard.
I had all the matter in the Universe, spread before me in a grid not even Poisson could have described and my fingers were numb. I cracked my hands together and roared. The waves shook reality, ripple after ripple smashing and crashing against the atoms. And they sung to me.
I smiled, and my heartbeat increased. Music flooded into my ears. I was alive.
I charged the debris. I threw my arms wide and I gathered the matter and I hurled balls of it against imaginary enemies like a childhood version of myself, reliving memories of heat and cold bundled in winter jackets and frozen faces.
The atoms, they burned. I took them all. I clasped them in my hands. The universe. All that was and ever had been, in the palms of my hands. And as I crushed it. As I squished and ground it, tighter, smaller, hotter, my heart was racing. And when I smashed a fist into a palm, the world exploded and I knew I would live again.
Prompt originally posted by yadila on reddit and received 8 upvotes.