Seeing god

Mission control,

do you copy?

It’s Mudd here.

Shit is hitting the fan up here.

A giant ship just appeared.

I think it is a ship.

Some great monolith

a hundred times bigger than anything I’ve ever imagined.

I think it’s crystal, but I don’t know.

It reminds me of staring into a dead man’s eyes.

I’m scared.

I’m scared what this means for me

and

I’m scared what this means for you.

Do you copy?

Please.

Someone answer.

It’s already cold enough up here.

It’s already lonely enough up here.

I don’t want to face this alone.

I don’t want to die alone.

I wish I could come back home

and change everything I did that brought me here.

I can’t stop staring.

Is it god?

Is this the thing that makes me feel so small that

it doesn’t matter

what I am

or what I think I am

or who I think I am

or what I think about anything at all?

It isn’t moving.

It is just there,

floating.

Silent.

Mission control.

I need you to answer before

god does.