I have absolutely zero desire to go into space, in case you were wondering. Which clearly you were. I'm sure. :: twiddles thumbs ::
We were watching some sort of program about the Challenger (explosion!) last night, and it completely confirmed my strong desire to remain grounded on this planet right here.
Of course I hate flying anyway, which directly relates to my immense fear of dying in a fiery crash, and so I can't see how rocketing out of Earth's orbit would do that situation any good. That and I can't get the images of space shuttles exploding into smithereens out of my head.
So, that's Strike One against orbital travel.
But the absolute, No. 1 reason I refuse (refuse! Because astronauts are banging on my door!) to go into space is because it's SPACE. I mean, just the name says it all. It's nothing but space. Wide open space.
There is no floor. No ceiling. No walls. No GRAVITY. A big, fat nothing. I sort of get short of breath and panicked thinking about it. True story.
I think my fear of space is the opposite of claustrophobia. I absolutely cannot wrap my head around the immensity of outer space. Does it end? Where does it go? Earth is just floating in an infinite abyss of space?
I hate it. And I cannot fathom being let loose into such an atmosphere. Walking on the moon? No thank you. I will walk to my car in my underground garage, thanks. There I will not float away into absolute nothingness.
And then I think of the earth just bumbling around in this infinite openness, and want to hide under the bed. Thank God for gravity.
I really have no point here, but felt I needed to rationalize to myself why I will, from this day forward, refuse any and all requests for space travel. Sorry.