The overwhelming sensation I get from looking up never fails to surprise me. I’ve felt it so many times before, but when I tilt my head back and see a never ending structure heading straight for the sun, I feel it all over again. When I was a child, tall things fascinated me. I remember how my dreams were full of buildings, mountains, any and all structures that seemed to continue upward forever. I don’t know how to describe the feeling accurately, but I think it feels like that rush you get when an airplane is almost too close to the ground and you can see every detail from the bottom. Seeing these things from far away, or while they are up in the sky doesn’t feel the same way. They are ordinary and just the right size, just how I picture they should be. But when they are close, when I can touch and see everything it is made out of, it brings me that feeling. I feel like I exist. Instead of seeing people and things that pass me by with no distraction, I see something that makes me fear how big this world actually is. It makes me think of how small I actually am, and there is so much space that I have yet to see. When I see these things, I remember that I am nothing. I am not nothing in the sense that I do not matter, but I am nothing in the sense that whoever put me on this earth is so much more-in every meaning and application of the word-than I could ever possibly imagine. There is something powerful in realizing that you are nothing, and that is why I look up.