text: Today I thought about leaving again. I remember the second that thought reentered my mind. This morning I stepped outside to see the sun rise over the earth, like every other day. There was a time when that view took my breath away, but now I applaud the sight with an unenthused sigh. I believe that was the first time I genuinely considered leaving. The novelty of my situation wore off quicker than you’d expect. When I was younger I would dream to be where I am today. If only I’d known how mundane it would be, then perhaps I would have moved to San Francisco or New York. Yeah, if I lived in New York I’d be happy. I could eat pizza all day and get lost in a maze of enchanting architecture. I know it doesn’t do me any good to fantasize about what I could’ve done differently. I can’t change what has already passed. Though I’m sad to say that thinking about a different life is the only way I can get through my reality. There’s something I like to say. When I first arrived here, I’d start every day by saying it, to try and comprehend the amazing truth that became my life. “I live on the f\*cking moon.” I remember still not being able to believe it, I was more than on top of the world, I had my own world. No other person had that. I knew this to be fact, but as days turned to weeks, to months and years, I started to notice a change in my attitude and spirit. My excitement for my little world faded, the so called honeymoon phase had departed and I was left with my new home for what it was. “I live on the f\*cking moon.” What was once a statement of wonder and amazement had become the truth that sucked me out of any pleasant fantasy I dreamt, a shackle that forever defines me. From afar, I’m sure the people of earth look up at the moon, at me and think that it must be like a dream to be where I am. I was a hero, a pioneer. The first to live off world. I can’t go back, for if they saw me return to earth they would be heartbroken. This is everything they had been working for. Those are the things I tell myself to get the thoughts of leaving out of my head. They’ve always worked until now. I’m not sure what’s changed, but what left my mouth next would reassure myself one way or another. “I do not want to live on the f\*cking moon.” When I finally heard myself say those words, the emotion I felt was relief. As if a weight on my back had floated away. I wasn’t happy, and I had finally let myself realize that. I looked to the rocket that took me here years ago, it’s never been more than 100 feet away from me. It always brought me comfort. I knew I could leave whenever I wanted, and that power gave me the will to stay here. But now I’m scared, I’m actually thinking about leaving. If I leave, I can never come back. There’s no assuring that where I’d end up would be any better than here. It’s the safer option the stay, at least for now, I can leave whenever I want. “I’m miserable and I want to leave. I can leave whenever I want. When I leave I can’t come back. I’m miserable and I want to leave. I can leave whenever I want. When I leave I can’t come back.” These thoughts kept me running in circles for over 30 years. I’ve spent my life fighting a war, and I’m the only living thing for thousands of miles. “...No. Not anymore.” I don’t know what had happened, but I was finally done, I was finally ready to take action. No more thinking, it’s time for me to do something for me. With many short hops I was able to get my old self to the rocket. Entering the machine flooded back memories and nostalgia nearly powerful enough to stop myself from bringing power back to the sleeping engines. But it wasn’t enough, I did it. I started the rocket, only to see two words flash on the dashboard. Refuel Required. &#x200B; *This story was written for a podcast about trying new things.