They keep saying the aliens are coming, and honestly, I’m over here like, “Cool, tell them swing by and drop me the keys to a spaceship.” While everybody’s arguing online, posting wild theories and getting scared, I’m just imagining myself pulling up in a chrome ship with the music loud, windows… well, whatever spaceships got instead of windows.
Picture this: I hit the stars like it’s a road trip. First stop, a quiet little blue moon where I can park my ride, breathe for a minute, and look back at Earth like, “Y’all still arguing down there? I’m out here just vibing.” Then I find a planet where the sky stays purple at sunset and the ground glows when you walk on it. That’s where I build my house. Big front porch floating above the ground, zero-gravity couch, and a backyard full of floating trees that dance every time the music plays.
My neighbors? Maybe some cool aliens that don’t care about how you look, what you believe, or where you came from. We trade stories instead of guns, recipes instead of insults. They teach me how to teleport to my kitchen, and I show them how to make fried chicken and laugh at old movies. No drama, no social media fights, just peace and good energy.
Down on Earth, people are scared, confused, and arguing about what’s real. Up in my little space house, I’m proof it doesn’t always have to be that heavy. Change can be weird, but it can also be exciting. So if the aliens really are coming, I hope they bring something we forgot how to use: wonder, curiosity, and a reason to look up together instead of fighting down here.
Until then, I’m just going to keep dreaming about my spaceship, my other-planet porch, and a universe where everybody gets a chance to smile again—no matter what planet they’re standing on.
XenialTheremin835
