Staring up at space, the ground beneath me seems to loosen and even disappear. The stars become the floor and i feel myself falling. I become lightheaded and can't wait to get back inside and take a breath. I don't know why it scares me like that, it seems like realizing how small I am and how big the universe is simply unsettles me. I used to think I could probably go to space if space travel ever became safe enough, but now I can't look up at the sky without feeling like i'm going to pass out. This doesn't happen in the day time. When I see a plane go by I always marvel at it. I think about how big it is and how amazing it is that something that large could fly. 'Someone had to build that' I always think. 'Every nut and bolt, every seat, every window, the wheels, the wings, every little part. Then they had to paint it. How did they know it was correct? You could never judge your work from that close to the plane. It must be automated. And someone had to build that machine too. And the factory. And every car that brought every employ there. And now there are thousands of these above and below. And everyday as if routine, someone gets in that plane, starts the engines by remote, calls over the radio to gain clearance, rolls down a length of tar or concrete so great that you can't even see the end, and finally fly. This behemoth of metal, rubber, glass, and god knows what else lifts off the ground carrying as much as it can fit and flies to another continent just as it was designed to do'. The sight of a plane amazes me despite everyone else, but the sight of anything beyond is just shy of vertigo.