He was there for 28 years. 28 long damn years. And me, I've been here for four days and I'm almost going crazy. I'm gripped by ... Yes, what is it that grips me? Contempt, amazement?

Let's be honest, the guy had a few guns, a few seeds and faith in some deity. And me? I have a multitool, an intact shuttle with no fuel and a complete map of the area. And still, I'm going crazy here.

How am I supposed to put up with this? I read his story again yesterday when I realised what my fate is. Alone, on an uninhabited planet. There is life, but no life like me. There doesn't seem to be anything else very dangerous here either. I can breathe the air and the protein structure seems digestible to me.

And at the same time, it's the first time in my entire life that I've been completely alone. I have survived, yes, as the only one. But without a connection to the outside world, without the possibility of being able to make an emergency call in the near future. Without all that. I am alone. Alone. Alone with myself.

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I am terrified. Of myself and of him. How could a person put up with that? So many years - ok, at some point Friday was there. But years had passed before that. Years. Without conversations, without communication, without a hug, a laugh, without kisses. What a life that is. What a person.

I have it easier than he did back then, I have blueprints, tools, I can get myself out of this situation. The computer thinks it will be done in two or three years. At first I thought she'd taken a knock when she landed. Years. She said years! I'm going crazy here. How did he manage that back then? I'm stunned. Downright speechless. Last night I shouted his name to the heavens.

I just want to know how he did it. How did he stand it, this silence, this absence of others, this silence of words? How strong must he have been?