The Regrets of a Traveler

I find it difficult to recall my past sometimes. Most times, truly. It is an odd sensation. I lived, like few others, on Earth for some time. Not for a long time, but still. I can only slightly remember my parent’s appearance. I can hardly remember my own home. 

And I can’t, simply can’t, remember the oceans. I know what we are taught from textbooks. They were “polluted and full of dangers. Just like everything else on the god-forsaken planet.” And yet I cannot shake the feeling that there was more to them. And the forests, I recollect nothing of them. Once again only my learnings after departure are still in my mind. “The forests were disgusting. Everything smelled, and the creatures living in them were vicious.” It is infuriating. I know that there was so much more to that planet, so much more! There are no photos, no accurate texts about them. It’s like they never existed! The people living in this station, they refuse to admit that the Earth was something good. Something important. 

I am worried. They found a habitable planet. They are bringing us there now. But history will repeat itself, it is obvious. Sure, it would be wonderful to have natural gravity and fresh food, but at least in space we can destroy less of our surroundings! At least here we can’t wipe out entire ecosystems! 

These settlers, they can leave this station. They can make their way down to the surface of a new planet. But I am going nowhere. I will never take part in such destruction as that on Earth again. We have all we need here in space, all we’ll ever need. But humans will continue to take what they want from the things that need it. 

It’s been long enough. If we haven’t changed already, then I’m afraid we never will.  

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