High orbit, cold, very cold, the kind of chill like daggers piercing through you. Lungs ache to breathe.
An infested marble of blue behind me. It’s dying. We’ve made sure.
Shifting shapes, clouds of stardust, more colors than a rainbow flash inside my head.
A wave of force pulling me out, shrinking the realm around me. Can’t tell which direction I face, I just knew that I was getting out.
Galaxy’s once before me, the edges of creation, now resting as a speck somewhere inside. Just one process in a greater place.
“Wake up”, the voices still echoing inside. Filling my head with fantasy and the impossible.
I’m not what they claim. I never was. I don’t want to be. It’s too much. I can’t accept.
I want out.
