I grew up looking at the night sky and wondering what was out in the heavens. And now I’m here, drifting all alone… I wonder if heaven is actually what we make of it on earth.

Was I wrong? Did I demand too much? Should I have been there for them? I always thought we had a fifty-fifty chance of landing safely on the moon, and a 90% chance of returning home… I guess the math won and I won’t get to see another human face.

(recollecting as a fighter pilot) I wanted to kill this guy. Adrenaline was pumping through me. I was full of rage, and excitement. I thought - if it comes to it, I’m gonna have to ram this guy and if it all goes to hell, I’ll eject. Maybe he read my mind, I don’t know. At this point, for reasons I will never understand, this pilot made a rookie mistake. Instead of climbing to clear a ridge, he turned and slammed into the hillside at high speed as we flew over. He was my first kill.