Amor Fati

Think with me: what if life were a wheel that spins eternally, without rest? Not a line that moves forward, towards the unknown, but a circle that pulls us back, always to the same starting point. What if I, you, all of us, had to live this same life, precisely as it is, over and over again, without ever changing a comma? Every gesture, every mistake, every breath — all repeated, infinitely. Have you ever asked yourself what you would do differently, knowing that every choice you make now echoes for eternity? And if you think about it, the answer is that you wouldn’t do everything the same way again, then I ask you: why have you lived this way until now?

Nietzsche gave me this idea like a stone on my chest, and I want to share this restlessness with you. He speaks of “amor fati” — to love your fate, to love what is, without asking it to be different. But it is not a soft love that simply conforms. It is a love that challenges. I want to love life as it is, with everything good and evil, and I still like it all to be repeated. Forever. Can you imagine that? I, at times, feel paralyzed just thinking about it. To accept the repetition of what hurts, of what burns, without the promise that tomorrow will bring something new. To live as if each moment were a stone thrown into a bottomless well that never stops falling, always making the same sound. This is the actual test of who we are.

I look around — my home, the room where I lie down every night, the path I walk without thinking, the smell of the earth, the same faces. Everything seems so familiar to me, so sure. And then comes the question that doesn’t go away: isn’t this familiarity just the fear of losing what keeps me grounded? Isn’t the routine that settles like the embrace of a loved one, or is there also the fear of moving away from what I already know? And you? Look around you and tell me — if you had to live each of these moments again, forever, would they be enough? Would they fill eternity or turn it into a never-ending nightmare? And if they wouldn’t, then why do we continue living them?

If every choice I make were definitive, if there were no tomorrow to go back and change things, what would I do differently? And you? Would you follow the same path, bound to what you know, to what seems comfortable? Or would you tear it all apart, rebel against the sameness, knowing that even rebellion would repeat itself forever? The fundamental mistake is not repeating the path but not realizing we are walking in circles. That there is nothing new beyond the constant return to the same point. And so, I ask myself: am I living with courage or fear? Are we? Or are we just walking in circles, as if time were a trick and not an ally?

Some will say that repetition is a punishment. Imagine seeing the same faces, hearing the exact words, feeling the same wind in the same places. But isn’t the sentence in the lack of depth with which we see what surrounds us? And what if the problem isn’t that life repeats itself but that we live without realizing the weight of each day? Living by thinking that each moment is disposable is the most incredible illusion. If we knew that each small gesture would repeat forever each day, perhaps we would be more sincere, present, and alive.

To truly live is not to wait for something extraordinary that is always yet to come. It is not placing our hopes in the future but finding the extraordinary in what we already have, in what we already are. To love life without wanting to change it, without trying to decorate it with empty hopes. This love requires strength, facing difficult things, and saying “yes.” And this is what Nietzsche asks of us: to face our lives without the false promise of a “tomorrow” that will fix everything. To live as if every decision were the last and every choice was eternal. Look at your life now, at your options. Would you live it all again, exactly as it is? Every mistake, every pain, every scar, every joy? I ask myself this every day, and often, I feel a lump in my throat. Because the truth is that facing life like this, without illusions, is a cruel exercise in honesty.

How often have I chosen the easier path that seemed less painful out of fear of losing myself? And you? How usually have you avoided change and embraced routine because the unknown seemed like a threat? And if time always brings you back to the same point, What would you learn about yourself? I might know that I wasn’t always brave, that many times I was a coward with myself. And this constant return would be my true master, a mirror that doesn’t lie, that shows every weakness with clarity.

Life consists of paths, crossroads, and choices that seem to move us forward. But what if it were all just a turn, a spin that always returns to the same point? Would that bring you peace or despair? For me, absolute freedom may not be in creating new routes but finding truth and meaning in the ones we already know. What seems banal may carry the greatness of a truth that only eternal return can reveal.

So I ask you again, like someone looking into your eyes seeking an honest answer: would you live your life again precisely as it is? Without changing anything, without trying to escape? Would you have the courage to face the mirror of eternity and say yes, that every pain, every mistake, every silence, and every joy were worth it? Or would you discover that you are trapped in a cycle of small cowardices, half-hearted choices, and soulless decisions? Repeating life is not a punishment; it is a brutal opportunity to see who we are. And time, my friend has no mercy. It doesn’t stop to comfort you or offer a new beginning. It simply continues. What does it mean, then, to love life?

To love what is as it is is not to resign. It is to face life with open eyes, without embellishments, knowing that the good, bad, ugly, and beautiful are all part of the same journey. It is to wish that everything repeats, not for lack of choice, but because every fall, every step, every small victory makes us who we are. Who dares to accept this? Who can honestly look at their chaos and see a meaning and reason to go on?

Living, then, is having this courage. It is looking at the chaos, repetition, and monotony head-on and finding what matters. And if the world keeps turning — and it will — let it be knowing that we have made our lives something worth living, even infinitely. Because, in the end, this idea of eternal repetition is to ask you, and me too: do you love your life enough to want it constantly, precisely as it is? And if not, what is still missing for each second to be complete, whole, alive?

The challenge is this. To live as if the eternal return were accurate. As if every step echoed forever. And if everything must repeat, let it be with the pride of someone who made their existence an act of courage and not of escape. Who am I to tell you what to do? But if there is one thing I have learned from this provocation, it is that living indeed requires looking closely, without fear or excuses. Life is here, it is now, and perhaps it is forever. So, what are you going to do with it?