It’s past midnight. I’m in the middle of space, lost and alone. There is nothing and no one around me and I have no clue of where I am heading.

In all directions, space is populated by nebulas and stars, piercing the deep black of space. When did space become so black? When looking at the sky, there’s a tendency to forget about all that nothingness and focus on what’s there, the potential life and death, the millions of unexplored stars and planets.

So I decide to move on. Charging my frame-shift drive I jump into super cruise, planets, stars and the universe whizzing past me, interspersing the bleak black of space. The stars leave their trails as I fly, chalk etchings on the blackboard of space.

With a lurch, I arrive at my destination. A sun stares passively at me, growing ever larger in my screen until my ship’s safety protocols force me to look away, less my ship overheat. I begin to fly towards an unexplored location, until it flies past me. Sighing, I move to face another planet and just sit, watching the number tick down as I zoom towards it.

Minutes pass and numbers lessen, until I idly charge the frame shift drive, jumping the rest of the way there.

Another sun, another unexplored area. The stars all beckon to me, whispering their impossibilities as I stare, stuck in a metal vessel in space. I am overwhelmed and the impossible choice has left me stuck in indecision.

I am piloting a ship of which I have not step foot inside for months. I am staring at space whilst sitting on a comfy chair in my room, illuminated by my bedside light. Problems are ignored as I fly towards another unexplored sun, the brilliant orange slowly growing in size and detail.

This is ridiculous. This ship is no longer mine. I do not recognise it. I don’t know how to pilot it. I’m lost and confused and have no idea of what I’m aiming for. The unexplored sun grows bigger as I move closer to it. Ignoring the warnings, I let the sun grow bigger with my ship’s temperature.

My ship’s hull integrity is slowly dropping. I have to let go eventually. Nothing in this astral plane has any permanence. Orange fills my screen. 50% left.

Am I making the right decision?

Can I simply drop my problems into the sun and be done with them?

10% left.

Music comes to a halt.

My ship’s screen cracks and blisters.

I breathe.

My ship fragments, black pieces dropping into the orange, a small explosion compared to the rest of this galaxy. The Sun continues to turn, ignorant to my death, surrounded by nothingness.