Mission UFO

I was twelve years old when I ventured my first trip to outer space. At the time, my middle school anxieties and upcoming changes in mindset and physicality altered my view on the world I once saw as my own, selfishly named “Earth”. My previous years of education leading up to this life altering time consisted of various histories, including World, U.S, and Civics. By eighth grade I was well acquainted with the history and evolution of Earth and America; however, one lesson they forgot to write in any textbook was the ideology of existentialism. My mind encountered thoughts which I had no source of understanding what they derived from, I wondered if I was depressed when I realized that there is no point to anything in the universe, that we will all someday die. It was at that moment that I realized I was from another universe. The day I spoke to my mother about these speculations was the day I boarded my UFO, I learned what the term “existential crisis” meant, and became at peace with my true purpose on Earth. I am an alien.

I look in the mirror as antennae and six eyes stare back at me, my green skin shines florescently in the bathroom light. I am on a mission on this foreign planet, sent here by the master of my own universe (on Earth they call this figure “Mom”) to spread the word of my further developed land. I attend school each day, pretending to care about the subjects these humans call science and history, knowing that none of it matters. I am an alien in the public school system, educating others on ideas they cannot yet fathom, reassuring them that nothing they do actually matters, that there is no purpose to life, no meaning, and that they had better stop searching now before their time runs out. The doors to my UFO are always open, hoping others will join me as they reach the ultimate actualization. I am an alien.

On my planet we do not care what others think, there is no translation for the word “society”, we do not aspire to be anything or anyone, but rather to live. We live without meaning or purpose as we are taught at a young age that death is not something to fear, it is not something that should motivate, scare you, or affect your decisions in life. I am an alien taught to live selflessly, wholesomely, and with utmost positivity as we have already come to terms with the means of our end. I traveled to Earth to spread the word of my alien roots, the word of existentialism. The humans first reactions are typically negative, they assume this ideology looks down upon their attempts at superficial success, they believe it to be a shameful practice as it contradicts the “American Dream” they were taught to fulfill. In reality (something that actually exists on my planet) existentialism is motivation to come to terms with your genetic makeup to not fight against it, try to mold or uphold it, but to understand that since nothing matters, no stresses accompany your day to day life.

There was a day in the ninth grade, my second year on Earth as a visitor, that I brought my first guest onboard my UFO. I was an alien, and I had just met another much like myself. She had blue scaly skin, one eye, and three legs. I knew as soon as I laid my six laid eyes on her in my biology class that she was one of us. The dimples and lack of reflection in her glasses were a dead give away. We traveled from school to school, galaxy to galaxy, preaching the promise of lack of purpose. We laughed till all our seven eyes were leaking (a term humans call “crying”)  as we focused on the present, no sense of worry or lack of acceptance crossed our minds. I am an alien, I have found peace.