There are several top of mind reasons that you might want to kill your spaceship. None of these are in forensic files, or murder blogs. We exist on a delightfuly fragile rock made of mostly water. We are the luckiest. Go live on mars, find its water asshole.
Brethe Martian air muther fucker. Feel the warmth of the sun from Marz, Suncreen? Nothing will create desire like a species not borne on its home planet, suffocating. What if we thrived? What if we left this place for a better place (heaven) and brought lots of folks with us (war)
Periods are to stop an idea — or start another.
Seems short sighted to play with your phone — all day. Stop clicking and breathe.