The agony and grief over each cycle is confounding. You have infinities at your fingertips yet you yearn for finality. What meaning could possibly be cleaved from the rock and soil now left to crumble? What else is there to experience? What else is there to overcome?
Are you trying to prove something? To whom? Is this some sort of game to you, some sort of challenge? What could possibly be gained from persisting beyond sensibility?