You've seen the sunsets of Saturn, the eruptions of Io, the swirling storms of Jupiter. You've seen the splendors in every region of the Milky Way, every region of the galactic clusters, every conceivable corner of space. Countless planets, countless supernovae, countless natural features and phenomena have been witnessed and their beauty digested over every imaginable spectrum and timescale. You thought your universe's entropic heat death would be your end, but you found a way to escape that, too, and entered into another.

You are powered by vacuum energy, and you are made of light. You can visually process in all directions at once across all of space, or collapse into as narrow a field of view as you wish. Your sensory spectrum is as rich as you can find ways to make it be, your consciousness as wide as the universe. Ancestors of yours used to hibernate as they traversed intergalactic distance, but you have long been beyond that, and simply blink where you may.

You are for, all intents and purposes, a perfect being, capable of navigating and form-fitting dimensions with ease, avoiding all possible existential ends. Every universe you visit you escape before its entropic end, simply because you can. You are immortal, and have never needed to justify the concept of death to yourself as a defining factor of life.

Would you feel malaise at your existence? Would you feel the need to take breaks from your own consciousness, and if so, would those breaks ever cease to be satisfying? Would the motivation to cease yourself ever emerge in your mind, or would you strive to continue to find sources of novelty indefinitely? After all, there’s no reason to think that you couldn't keep crawling up the conceivably infinite dimensional ladders, reaching newer and newer states of being in dimensional contexts unrenderable by the limited mind of this narration.

There would be two curiosities: non-existence on one hand, and what continuing to exist forever would be like on the other. To you, they might seem equally tempting. Existence implies a level of constant stress – not necessarily in a negative way, but simply in a being-something-that-is-constantly-attending-to-stimulus way. Would you eventually wish for the complete dissolution of that stress, or would you be addicted to it?