Technically, we have until the sun dies, or a black hole burps, or a gamma-ray burst hits us. But those are cosmic lottery tickets. You’re more likely to trip over your shoelaces tomorrow than see the apocalypse. So, let’s be honest: the world ends when you stop caring about it. And you, clearly, still care. You’re here, reading this, drinking that coffee. That’s living.
In the end, the only deadline that matters is the one you set. Like, “I’ll get out of bed in five minutes.” Or, “I’ll laugh at something stupid today.” That’s how you beat the end-of-the-world blues. You outlast the hype. You become a professional at now.
So, here’s my official answer: the world ends in about… your lifetime. But it also starts again every morning. And right now, it’s still a pretty good place to have a chat. Drink your coffee, friend. We’ve got a few billion years to go.
