The Hexacoto

Three lunar years ago, I shot myself into the air, through space, and landed on the other side of the planet. There, three Lunar New Years missed. Will I miss the next one too? With an adventuring spirit, I thrust myself into the unknown.

Having left home, it seems I have cut myself adrift, with very little means to go back. I am still floating, rotating, and have yet to gain enough gravitas and inertia to propel myself anywhere. How can I go back home in this state?

There will be no triumphant return, only stony silence and static white noise.

I have been dreaming dreams of various places back home, it seems almost uncanny; unnerving. I don’t know what to do.

In the mean time, I remain in stasis, as my life support slowly flickers lower.

Space.