Floating

Mark Watney in the story probably has the home of his in his mind that he could be that way. I just wanna go home, I just want to go home. Be that a person or a place.

I’ve been feeling like a floating dandelion again since January. Decently horrifying feeling I think. I’ve felt that before, the first year in Harbin, well, not as strong, and not as lonely, I was indeed with thousands of other dandelions in the flow of the air in the same direction. Until I dropped out of that airflow. I’m floating elsewhere now. You know how a dandelion was first on the ground, with its parental stem, then got blown away and then enters the uncertainty? Then it wants to touch the ground again, wishing a raindrop could just bring it home, wherever it is.

One might ask that why that would be horrifying, isn’t that supposed to be representing freedom? Well, it’s the opposite of freedom. Its life is not in its control, it’s just floating in the air, rootless, extremely powerless, and lonely. It has no home. Just like a stranded astronaut being in the space.

Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
‘Til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle
And you sang
Sail to me, sail to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am, here I am
Waiting to hold you