From where I was sitting, I could see the sky steadily darkening. The blueness seemed to deepen, like a light behind a blue sheet getting further and further away. Stars became apparent. The force wasn’t terribly strong like I had expected. Entering space reminded me of dying. Everything you know and expect is so far away. It’s hard not to feel totally alone, and that’s what death must be like. Totally alone.

I was nauseous while I was up. It’s very hard to get your bearings without an up or a down. My insides seemed to churn. I caught a glimpse of my face in the steel mirror. I looked like someone else, someone I’d never seen before. Outside, a blue sphere that was my existence rested peacefully in nothingness.

Being in space is falling, constantly falling. My head felt like it was going to pop at first, like my skull had been removed and nothing was holding my brain in anymore. I wondered how long it would take to hit the ground if I was falling to Earth instead of just around it. Somewhere below, my grandpa was watching TV, maybe thinking about me, maybe not.

I couldn’t sleep. My clothes were tighter in space but my legs were thinner. It didn’t make sense to me. I felt like I had become a different person when I left Earth. I didn’t look the same, I didn’t feel the same. I wondered how long it would be before I stopped thinking the same.

Looking past the stars, all there is is blackness. Perhaps the whole universe itself is constantly falling into nothingness. After all, in a massive empty void, what’s the difference between floating and falling? I wondered what Laika thought about.

The exhaustion becomes overwhelming. I wished I could sleep but I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel myself falling. When I opened them I could imagine that I wasn’t, but I couldn’t deny it when they were closed.

Somewhere in one direction was the moon. Beyond that, Mars, then Ceres, then Jupiter. Then Saturn. Uranus. Neptune and Pluto. Haumea, Makemake, and Eris follow. Beyond that…a number of stars, planets and other celestial bodies numbering so high that they make infinity seem small. And beyond that, a truly infinite amount of empty space. I tried to imagine what it would be like to travel into that emptiness to the point that the distance from the nearest celestial body is greater than the distance between said body and the farthest other celestial body in the universe. I couldn’t. I still can’t.

When it was time to go back, I strapped myself into my chair. The reentry was hot and forceful. I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. The black steadily became blue again. I tried to count the seconds but I couldn’t tell if I was counting evenly or not. After having left Earth, I wondered what it would be like to come back, a different person.