On a backdrop of blue.

"Roll not to die - chunk chunk chunk - Rustan?"

"Up? Dragon!"

I always worry that if I can't explain something, it's not worth doing. If I can't rationalize why I'm acting upon feeling X without defining X with no room for error, there's no way in hell I'll put it into the equation to find the solution. I always feel like my decisions hold so much weight. They're very important. If I make the wrong choice, the Earth will probably stop turning, our moon will fall out of orbit and the Sun will have a mid-life crisis and forget how to turn hydrogen into helium. Gravity won't be enough to keep my feet on the ground, all the nitrogen in my body will bubble out and go to my heart and I'll have an air embolism and die while driving on Crowchild, probably with Patrick in the car. Then someone will fall asleep on the job because they stayed up all night with the rest of the world and watched our moon disappear and accidently presses the "NUCLEAR WAR" button which causes all the other button people to press their button and our pale blue dot suddenly becomes a little firey speck that soon destroys itself one thousand times over - but no one will realize until billions of years from now when our light reaches them, but realistically, they won't care, because the last message they got from us was Hitler at the Munich Olympics.

And it's all my fault.

I feel like I'm just going through the motions. How long has this been going on for?

I remember you.