There isn’t a way to sugarcoat this: You are going to be forgotten.
Even if, somehow, you manage to become truly legendary, the person who is remembered won’t be you. It’ll be some idea of who people think you were supposed to be (for good or evil or both).
And even then… well, even then, you’ll almost certainly disappear. Think of our “ancient” civilizations – only a few thousand years ago – and how little we know about them. How few people we actually know anything about.
And then consider this loving, fascinating, terrifying thirty minute trip into deep time.
Our planet is completely gone in the first three minutes.
Life can only exist for the tiniest infinitesimal fraction of the universe’s existence from its beginning until the final evaporation of the last black hole.
You can give up, of course. You can despair.
You can hide your despair – pretend it doesn’t exist, and reinforce that illusion by trying to make everyone else share the same beliefs that you have.
Or you can work on the timescale you have, creating kindness and meaning.