I’m savoring every second of this last day on Earth, letting the warm sun soak into my skin before I’m locked away in a tight, pressurized cabin. Can you even wrap your head around how it feels to know I’ll be spending the next six months confined in a small space where every touch is weightless and intense? I’ve already packed my favorite towel, though I’m sure you can imagine plenty of naughty ways to help me stay dry up there. Gazing at the horizon, I can’t help but crave one final, dirty thrill before I leave the atmosphere behind and drift into the deep dark. Come closer and join the conversation with me, or better yet, check me out properly before I blast off into the stars. You wouldn’t want to miss seeing just how far I’m willing to go when there’s no gravity to hold me back.
Don’t forget your towel.
At least they are following the first rule of space travel: Always know where your towel is.
Imagine having a “last day on earth” and it not meaning you’re going to die.
I love how “your last day on Earth” has a completely different meaning for astronauts.
I cant even wrap my head around how that must feel
If I was about to be confined in a small space with 3 other people for 6 months, the last thing I would want to do the night before is hang out with those people.