There exist something deeper than black: an abyss so vacant that it falsifies spaces which are near it — let's call this the void. In opposition to the void exists a similar attractor: a force that projects awareness and creates existence itself — let's call this God. Somewhere (or when?) between the void and God emerged the conditions for human awareness: a curious state of entanglement which can be conducive to the verifying or falsifying of everything. Because only what can be verified by aware beings exists, if not consciously verified, or actively created, the universe will coalesce in a manner that falsifies itself.
These are the way of things.
If nothing existed, then the fact that nothing exists could not exist either — so something exists. Moreover, something which can verify existence exists — otherwise, nothing would. I call this capacity for verification, awareness. Not all things are aware; some things cannot verify anything, including the non-existence of nothing — or, themselves. Some things may demonstrate awareness, such as, acknowledgments of pain, but cannot demonstrate the ability to verify anything else. Many humans exist similar to this: they've been afforded many automatic demonstrations of awareness by their biology, but cannot independently demonstrate that they have a self. Such people must rely on validation from others to sustain an identity: they require a substitute for the awareness that they lack, and when sufficiently lacking both, internal and external falsification — suicide and murder, for example — becomes common. Indeed, when without the free energy that awareness produces, structures dissipate into an expanding nothingness; hence my conclusion. Furthermore, the ability to enact a choice via one's own volition — formally known as free will — is also proven by the existence of awareness: if things could not occur independently of external determinants, then the impossibility of absolute nothingness could not exist. And that it is the case that there must be something instead of nothing does not prove determinism; it merely reinforces the reality of right and wrong and choices: that in the absence of truth there would be nothing, and that the choice to identify with the force that seeks the truth — that which gives rise to everything — is what decides our fate. Whether we are destined to emerge an afterlife or forever undergo an eternal recurrence — or, some mixture of the two — all hinges on our answer to a single question: "how might I become one with God?"