My Island

I often fantasize about being stranded on a tropical island, completely isolated. I don’t care how I get there, and I don’t care the state I am when I finally arrive. But it would be nice, for once, to be completely alone in a beautiful place and not have to worry about media, or politics, or finances, or love. Just live with nature and forget about everything that happened in the “real world”.

I’m pretty adapted to nature. I know how to start a fire with a couple rocks, or two stick, or a bunch of dried grass, a couple of splintered sticks, and a piece of rope. I know how to make various shelters that could withstand wind and rain and whatever else nature decided to throw at me. I know how to hunt, to make hunting tools out of pretty much anything I can find lying around. I know how to protect myself from insects, and the sun, and the cold, and the wind. I know how to find water, and collect water should I not be able to find it.

I’m not saying I would survive should I be stranded, but at least I would put up a good fight. And if, by chance, I do die on that island, I’d die with my dignity (Hopefully). And I’d die alone, at peace, without having to worry about family or friends finding me. Sure, I’d be gobbled up by the local wildlife, but that wouldn’t matter, because no one would mourn over my remains, because there would be no one there to find them.

I watch Cast Away often. You know, the movie where the man talks to a blood-covered, semi-inflated  volleyball? Survival portrayed in that movie IS possible. But I wouldn’t escape. I would stay there, in my own little slice of paradise, and live out whatever life I had left.

Yes, I often fall asleep thinking about it. And then I find myself dreaming about it. And I’m happy in my dreams.

But then I wake up. I remember that, according to the media, I am a waste of skin. I remember that my country is constantly at war. I remember that this week I’m going to have to choose between rent, or food, because I can’t afford both. I remember that I’m alone. And I feel sad. I feel anxious. I feel lost, and out of place, like a fish without water, or a bird who can’t claim the sky.

And when I start feeling like that, I close my eyes once more, and I picture that beautiful island. And suddenly I don’t feel so bad anymore. For that brief moment, reality fades away, and I’m home.