Space

I can feel the walls going up. I can feel you pushing away again. And I'm okay with it, because this is what you do to everyone. But it could be years before you come back around. And I miss you. I miss you when you're right next to me, because you're holding yourself away... I can't help you this time either, and it's tearing me apart. I felt the division. It wasn't a snap, or anything, it was just... a dissolution. It was on the front porch at five am on Monday morning, when we were drunkenly look at the stars. You looked at me too long, I saw you out of the corner of my eye. Then I felt you move away. You do it for the right reasons. You know you'll crash, you don't want me to hurt. And I appreciate it. But I'm hurting a little now. I miss you, I see misery ahead of you and I can't help you.

Advent. Distorted face of a dead god decaying in the infinite black expanse and wastes of nothing chained to planets revolving slowly. Cycles and revolutions of pain. Chaos reigns as stars collapse under their own weight shattering light into dark distant corners of inexistance.

I just had a terrifying thought the other day. I realized that someday, when space travel is more convenient and affordable and people around the world take to the final frontier...

...there are going to be rednecks in space.

Beer cans scattered all over the lunar surface as drunken idiots hoot wildly and crash lunar rovers into each other. Larry the Cable Guy bumper stickers plastered on their spacecraft, etc.

It makes me sad that I have thought this, as it taints my sci-fi fantasies.