The Beginning

There was once a time when I lived in a smaller city with smaller buildings and smaller people. I also loved once and blindly followed that love to a place by the sea. My love never left me but my object of affection was no longer there, leaving me in a damp, dark, depressing place where I refused to drown.

Often, I writhed on the beach in pain, wishing my love's love would return but it never did and I ultimately became sucked into the ocean. Fighting with waves and wind. Reaching for something to hold onto, to save me; hoping there would be a magical God to grab my pathetic hands and pull me out of the angry water and onto dry land, and eventually there was. I soon washed up on a beach, coughing up water and attempting to stand again. Opening my eyes, I saw nothing but sand and jungle. My eyes were stinging and my very core was scared… and lonely. I was alone. There were so many nights where I couldn't sleep with the rustling and the paranoid feeling that something was watching me. There was something unnerving about this place but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Some mornings I left my comfort place built of sticks and sand underneath a few tress by the beach I'd washed up on, and I'd find new fruits, animals, and plants. I became more sure that I'd be able to keep myself alive by discovering what was behind large leaves and understanding my own limits and what I can handle.

Even though I found my island to be my new home, I couldn't help but remember the place by the sea. I speculated whether or not I'd ever find my way back or if my object of affection would find his love and swim through the vast sea to take me away from my new home. I wondered if he would throw me a bottle with poems and promises. I waited for it. I sat on the beach daily looking out at the water & hoping to find a glint of light reflecting on a glass bottle with my dreams inside. It never came, and I stopped looking.