# Up There I'm Still Human

> I point my arm straight to the sky. You follow the line from my armpit, elbow, wrist, middle finger, and then you join me, perfectly up, as I shoot off, through the air, birds, clouds, sky, a clearing, a frightening height, up up up and up. There’s a pause. Silence. I’m ten million feet in the air. The circumference of the earth fits in the palm of my hands. I look down at the earth. “Okay.” I don’t feel much. I take a little closer look. I want to get more out of this. You’re next to me, so ...

URL: https://paragraph.com/@sandrarhee/up-there-im-still-human
Author: Sandra Rhee
Published: July 15, 2026

I point my arm straight to the sky. You follow the line from my armpit, elbow, wrist, middle finger, and then you join me, perfectly up, as I shoot off, through the air, birds, clouds, sky, a clearing, a frightening height, up up up and up.
There’s a pause. Silence.
I’m ten million feet in the air.
The circumference of the earth fits in the palm of my hands.
I look down at the earth.
“Okay.”
I don’t feel much. I take a little closer look. I want to get more out of this. You’re next to me, so I fill the silence with words I think that you’ll think fit the moment. “Wow.”
The surrounding darkness catches my interest. My mind clears enough to feel fascination. The view of the Earth came with a burden— my family’s house, my current and lost friends, my job, my dreams, the poor polluted ocean, the poor forests, and the poor dirty air. But with the black surrounding, there are no humans in this view, no homes or signs, no sentiments, or dreams, it’s an area with no gum, footsteps, breakups, policies, or jobs. I wonder, “What can we do with this space?“
My legs shake as I realize I am in mid-air. On a rollercoaster, I would have risen, and for a brief moment I would have been suspended until a fall. This time, I’m stuck in that moment, and it’s not making sense.
Wouldn’t the machinery be loud? The ship should be filled with sound. I’d be getting air conditioning, right? My boyfriend’s apartment has an AC unit so loud it hides bodily sounds. It keeps the room nice and cold, and we like that, and fart-hiding white noise can be a godsend.
I hear noise—beeps, oxygen under control, words from the ship controller, and flushing sounds. The moment I look at the vastness, I don’t hear it anymore. What does this mean? How should I understand what is— Wait.
There should be another planet somewhere. The sun, too. Where’s the sun? I can’t find it.
I don’t see it in this window.
I’ve got to find another view.
If I put myself in space, what revelations would I have?
Even amidst the stars, I was self-conscious, distracted, comfort-seeking, and inventive. I expected to explore humanity from a distance, but instead I brought it with me.
Would I be a different person if I was in a hotel on the coast of Greece, or on the way to a talk show interview? I don’t think so. I don’t change.