Fuck it. You are your own time machine. Stop pressing yourself into boxes, hoping that you’ll fit. Let yourself go forward and back, let your breath take you from moment to moment. If you do find a box, don’t wait around for a key. Keys are for idiots. Doors are meant to be opened. 

Unravel time with your fingers, crunch planets between your teeth like hard candy. Gut the universe and scoop out its innards. This is what you were born to do. We are all just atoms rearranging themselves. It is okay if you want to crawl out of yourself, want to uncork your fingernails and split at the seams. It is all part of the regeneration. 

Your insides are infinite. There is so much inside you that you don’t know about yet. Your blood is full of lost moons. Your lungs are full of stars. There’s a spaceship lodged in your gut. One of these days you will rescue its crew.

Take a minute to consider how far you are from your home planet. Map out the distance, count the lightyears from your starting point. We’re all breathing foreign air. Whatever your lungs grew up inhaling isn’t this shit. Give yourself a chance to catch your breath. The atmosphere is different here, crushing. That’s okay. Your bones will withstand it. 

You have another heart inside you. Everyone does. Don’t go looking for it. That’ll ruin the secret.