August 16, 2034

Waking up from cryo is always disorienting. My body feels heavy, my mind sluggish, like I'm wading through a thick fog. The ship’s lights seem too bright, the air too sterile. I stretch, trying to shake off the remnants of that deep, dreamless sleep. Everything feels surreal, like I'm still half-asleep, caught between dreams and reality. Each step is deliberate, my muscles stiff from inactivity. The familiar hum of the ship's systems is oddly comforting, a reminder that I'm back in the real world. I need to reorient myself, to remember why I'm here. The mission, the discoveries that await. But for now, I just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, shaking off the last vestiges of cryo-sleep.