I don't think you people understand what "eternity" really means.
You go to Heaven and inherit Eternal Life.
You look down on your friends and family on Earth. You watch them grow old and die. And still, you exist.
You watch the human species mutate and evolve over thousands upon thousands of generations, until our descendants have as little in common with us as we do with Guinea pigs. And still, you exist.
You watch the sun slowwwwwwwwly grow in brightness over its main sequence lifetime until the surface of the Earth is baked into uninhabitability. And still, you exist.
You watch the sun expand into a red giant at the end of its main sequence lifetime, swallowing the Earth and, with it, the last remaining physical evidence that humans ever existed. And still, you exist.
You watch other stars in the Milky Way wink out and die, while new ones are born to take their place. And still, you exist.
You watch generation after generation of these stars form, shine, and die. Gradually, you notice that there aren't as many stars forming now as their are old stars dying out. And still, you exist.
You watch as the last red dwarfs, the last embers, the last shuddering gasps of light-shedding in the universe finally reach the end of their main sequence lifetimes -- literally hundreds of billions of years from now -- and the whole of the universe is finally engulfed in endless darkness. And still, you exist.
You watch for the trillions upon trillions of years as the universe just sits there, a dead, lukewarm-soup of ever-expanding darkness, with hardly a hint remaining that there were ever stars at one time in the ancient past. And still, you exist.
You watch the eons-old universe finally grind to a halt in its once-relentless expansion, and begin the equally-long trip toward its inevitable end in the Big Crunch. And still, you exist.
You watch the universe of your birth finally collapse into the singularity from whence it came, those trillions or quadrillions of years later. And still, you exist.
You watch a new universe launch itself outward in a brand new Big Bang. And form galaxies and stars. And you watch those galaxies and stars burn out and die over many billions-year-long generations of star formation. Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll catch a fleeting glimpse of a planet with life on it before its own sun wipes it out. And you watch that universe grind down into a dark warm soup as the last of its red dwarfs sputters out. And you watch that universe continue for trillions of years until it stops expanding and contracts, inevitably, to its eventual Big Crunch. And still, you exist.
You watch another big bang, expansion, contraction, and big crunch. And another. And another. Eventually, you lose count of how many times you've seen an entire universe be born, live, grind to a halt, and die.
And still, you exist.
And you honestly think, in all that time, that you're not going to get sick of country music?