What am I? I see a straight line that has no end. Freely, wildly sprinting is my only option. Nothing but acceleration is worth any more energy. I build up enough velocity to escape Earth's pull. I drift and spin for a bit, momentum carrying me. My vestigial sense of earthward versus starbound is finally extinguished. Direction has no more meaning; It is what I make of it. Infinitesimally slower than light, I travel straight, dodging celestial matter, for many thousands of years.