Could it be that hope is our greatest treasure? Doesn't hope encompass the space that we inhabit, and us? We travel and we are. We seek and we are. But who are we when there's no path to tread, no new horizon to reach out to? What is the use of staying lost? Could it be that we are the creators of hope, the architects of our own trajectory? Here I am, all alone in my rocket, lying on my bed while traveling at the speed of light, listening to the sound of my own voice. I do not know where it comes from or if it'll ever stop talking to me. I hope it won't.
There have been many, many moments of frustration. First star on the left? First star on the right? It would be so hard to choose. Meanwhile, I would pick up speed and pretend going fast meant deluding the universe into believing I knew where I was heading and for what reason. I've come to realize that speed makes us vulnerable, not powerful or meaningful. I've come to understand that busy does not equal strength. I see now that traveling at a slower speed allows me to enjoy the ride just in case my final touchdown turns into a final crash. This rocket took a long time to build and though I could've done a better job, it's home and this is me.
I have to set course for different planets instead of wanting to fly away from them. The older I get, the more I know the joke's on me so I might as well join in on the laughter. It's time to meet the friendly locals and ignore the ones that poison the mind. I need to slow down.
First star on the left.