The vastness of space makes my skin itch with envy. I don’t like feeling small anymore, but I’m still so good at folding myself up.

I want to be as overwhelmingly quiet as outer space, and just as intimidating too. When explorers set out on their voyage, I want them to know the danger they face. I want them to suit up, kiss their families goodbye and spend weeks, months, years exploring me. I want them to cry at my beauty; to be stuck within me and left with their thoughts.

Then, I want them gone. I want them to go back home to their friends and families and lives. I want them to tell of stories of our time together, and for those memories to fade over time.

I want them to think of me each time they look at the sky. I want them to think of me during the overwhelmingly quiet.

My silence is inescapable and suffocating.