Here I am again, all alone, the solitary confines on my mind remain largely unknown. Lost on the desolate seas of hopelessness, absently I drift with no awareness of which direction I go. With a pelican’s plumage and a vat of octopus ink, and after turning dried up palm leaves into paper, I sit here and write these words from the greatest depths of loneliness, as I’m faced with the choice of either swimming with sharks, or staying confined to my raft all day…
Anyway, I had a good thing going on the last ship that I was on. I was amongst many fellow pirates, and had good study sessions and plenty of people to talk to, with a multitude of things to talk about. It was a very productive environment, where the treasure chest was full of sparkling gems of knowledge.
But unfortunately, I had to walk the plank, and that’s how I ended up on this lonely raft, lost at sea, you see? Removed from all my fellow pirates, I now sit here, alone with my thoughts.
It’s my fault though, you know? For trying to start a riot. I couldn’t help it though. The swine called one of my fellow pirates a “punk”. Those are words you just don’t use on these treacherous, deadly seas. And everybody knows you don’t use those words. And even though the swine wasn’t addressing me with those derogatories, I felt well enough disrespected to even hear those words slip out of a swine’s filthy mouth, and naturally, I took it as an opportunity to vent out some of my own existing frustrations against my captors. And so, yes I got off, and it felt good to get off. And there were plenty of fellow pirates ready to tear down the ship with me, and it nearly ensued into a larger disruption, until the swine came back, bowed down, and apologized.
But eventually, I was removed from my fellow pirates and forced to walk the plank. And then on my 32nd birthday, December 15th, 2009, the captors came back to my new ship and was sure to remove all of my fellow pirates I had on this ship, some who I haven’t seen for years, and who I was waiting to meet up with again. I guess they thought we were planning some type of mutiny together, or something. So, they made me walk the plank, leaving me isolated on this lonely raft, drifting on these swaying seas of hopelessness. Me, a social butterfly, left with no one to socialize with…
And so, now I use this time of solitude to write, read and reflect. Never letting the waves of despair crush me, or take me under. And now that I have no one to talk to, I hear myself having long, drawn out conversations with myself, in my own mind. In my head, I mean. I wonder if I should worry? I don’t know? But at least I’m not talking to myself out loud. I guess if I do that, that’s when I should start to worry. But then again, a lot of people talk to themselves, and they say it’s normal. But maybe they’re just in denial. Maybe that’s just the way they rationalize and justify the fact that they’re losing their minds. Or maybe I’m the one in denial, projecting my delusion on them, trying to rationalize it by saying, “well at least I don’t talk to myself out loud, like others do”. Am I losing my mind, or am I doing everything I can to preserve my sanity? That’s the question.
Well, I’ll be damned! It appears that I’ve landed ashore a deserted island! And there’s even a coconut tree! So it looks like I’m gonna make it, as I realize that carrying on these conversations in my head is actually a good thing, ‘cuz it lets me know that my mind is working, it’s active and flowing. So that’s good. These are just the workings of a productive mind. There’s no problem, I’m gonna be alright. All I need now is a volley ball with a hand print on it, and I’ll make it through this journey. Wilson, where are you? Wilson!
No more am I lost at sea, my mind is active, so I am free. Creativity. Productivity. These are the signs of a healthy mind. I look up at the twilight, and let the North Star guide me. I’ve found my way back home. I have direction, I have purpose and my sails are up and blowing, I’m on my way back home. My loneliness has strengthened me, and fortitude has once again carried me through. My sails are high and mighty, my spirits are too. I’m gonna be alright, I’m gonna make it through. I’m on my way back home…
The ocean is my only higher power. I was born and raised on the beach, saltwater runs through my veins. I’ve found my way back to shore, and that’s where I’m going, for sure! Thank you, Dear Ocean, for your guidance and strength. I am forever grateful and always in awe of your greatness.
Coyote
December 24th, 2009
