You know Atlas? He was/is a Titan who, after a war with the Greek gods, was forced to hold the heavens on his shoulders as a punishment. For all eternity.
Do you ever wonder why Atlas holds up the heavens? Still? After all this time? We’re talking about a figure who endures immense pain—his own private hell—for eons; the entirety of the universe is crushing down on his shoulders. If he just dropped it, no one could stop him; by the time anyone reached him it’d be too late. Just…poof. Gone. All pain subsided. He could go on with his immortal life as the cosmos unravelled around him painfree.
But he doesn’t let go. At times he tricks others to hold it up so that he’s free to roam the cosmos—but even being imprisoned again, he STILL keeps enduring. Think he’s not weary? He’s exhausted.
So why does he still hold it up?
I like to think it’s because of the beauty out there, in living life in this universe, of being able to experience it for brief moments, even though he’s been condemned to everlasting torture.