Chasing Infinity

We stood in the playground, surrounded by the lively laughter and excited shouts of other children, but all I could focus on was the endless sky overhead. My small fingers gripped the crayon-drawn rocket ship on my notebook, my imagination brimming with possibilities.

“I’m going to be an astronaut,” I said with determination, showing the picture to my teacher.

Her smile was gentle yet tinged with caution. “That’s a big dream,” she said. “It’ll take a lot of work, you know.”

“I’ll work harder than anyone,” I replied, my voice steady with unshakable confidence.

Years passed in a whirlwind of textbooks, late nights, and relentless training. I climbed every rung of the ladder: acing my exams, earning my pilot’s license, excelling in NASA’s demanding astronaut program. The dream never wavered, not even when the sacrifices grew heavy. Friends, free time, even sleep—I gave them all up for this one goal.

The day finally arrived. I sat strapped into the cockpit of a gleaming spacecraft, my heart pounding with a blend of excitement and fear. The countdown began, and the engines roared so loudly it seemed to shake the very ground beneath us.

“T-minus 5… 4… 3…”

As the numbers ticked down, I gripped the controls more tightly, adrenaline coursing through me.

“2… 1… Liftoff!”

The rocket surged upward, pressing me into my seat as the world below shrank away. The blue sky deepened, gradually surrendering to the endless darkness of space. I stared out the window, breathless at how close the stars suddenly seemed.

This was it. I was here. I had made it.

Then, a red warning light started flashing. A jarring noise filled the cabin, alarms ringing in my ears. My stomach dropped.

“System failure,” the computer droned in a flat monotone.

“No,” I whispered, frantically pressing buttons in a desperate attempt to regain control. But it was already too late. A deafening explosion tore through the spacecraft. I was slammed against my restraints as flames engulfed the cabin.

This was the end.

I closed my eyes, the searing heat consuming me, the dream I’d pursued all my life collapsing into ash.

And then…

I opened them.

I was back in the classroom. My small hands still clutched the crayon rocket ship, my teacher smiling down at me.

“It’s a big dream,” she said. “It’ll take a lot of work, you know.”

I blinked, disoriented. My heart raced as the memory of training, liftoff, and destruction evaporated like a fading nightmare.

But the dream remained. Stronger than ever.

“I’ll work harder than anyone,” I repeated, the words spilling out as though they had their own purpose.

And so, the loop began anew.

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