Out in Space

Being in space is exhilarating, same with landing. But coming back sucks. “Damn,” I said to my wife, “I need to get back up there.”

“But there’s no time for that. You just came back. How are we to raise a family together?” She asked, tears streaming from her eyes.

“I guess it’s divorce time, then,” I said, slamming my fist down on the table.

She backed off, the ol’ divorce gambit always works. God damn am I a terrible person. It’s easy to grow accustomed to space. It’s easy to let yourself become lame and angry. Hating the whole world is easy when it’s in full view. I am not sure, but I am sure about not being sure about going into space. Whoopee.

I got the call moments ago, “Hey Jim,” he said like the loser my CO is, “We need you back up there.”

He was greeted with the sound of something breaking and a dial tone, he knew it was happening. That was my way of saying yes, that I would just destroy my phone. I was sick of space travel. I didn’t want to go, but I needed to go. For the sake of humanity, I would become an astronaut once again.

I was suited up before I cried out, “I am a shitty person, and I hope you all know that before you try to save me.” The interns were too underpaid to care, and my CO already knew this. It didn’t matter, because being a grizzled man who has to save the world was cliché. And I am a cliché, true and proper. Up into the capsule, up into the seat, up up up into space. Until the sky had melted away and I was ready to give in. What they don’t teach you, is that you have to be ready to go as you exit the atmosphere. Not go up into space but to GO.