When I am crushed, choked and twisted under the immovable weight of curdled guilt and grief; when I cannot bear a friend's touch or a loving voice because of who you aren't; when the blood on my hands burns - unbelievably enough, Farscape helps.

So fucked-up, so darkly funny, so devastating, so damn fucking beautiful.

My name is John Crichton,
(I'm lost)
- an astronaut...
(shot through a wormhole)
In some distant part of the universe.
(I'm trying to stay alive.)
Aboard this ship
(this living ship)
of escaped prisoners -
(my friends.)
If you can hear me -
(beware)
If I make it back...
(will they follow?)
If I open the door...
(are you ready?)
Earth is unprepared
(helpless)
for the nightmares I've seen.
Or should I stay?
(Protect my home?)
Not show them -
(You exist.)
But then you'll never know... the wonders I've seen.
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