Semester at Sea

July 5, 2012 § Leave a comment

Having been run out of my home town near the sea for an unfortunate misunderstanding involving a banana, I decide to acquire a small sail boat and traverse the waters in search of both adventure and myself. Sadly my sailing skills leave much to be desired and I become the sole inhabitant of a painfully cliché deserted island. Sitting on the beach while the water laps between my toes, I think back to my life and the various choices I’d made that led me to this place.

I look to my left and see a younger version of myself sitting in the sand. He is pensive and brooding and clearly misunderstood. I ask him what might be troubling him and he replies I am going to die here without ever seeing the world. Without ever having truly lived. Without ever having achieved a great success or a miserable failure.

I look back toward the water and watch the sea’s sienna glimmer burn as the sun begins its arduous task of setting. I look to my right and see a much older version of myself kneeling in the sand. He is tired and satiated and clearly finished. I ask him what might be troubling him and he replies I am not going to die here because I died some time ago. I died sitting at a desk in a building filled with other desks. I died of absolutely nothing at all and I did it without ever seeing a place as beautiful as this.

The three of us watch the sea swallow the sun and soon the blackest of nights swallows everything else. The darkness is thick in my lungs like tar and gasoline and my breathing turns shallow. It is death incarnate and I can feel it pulling the life out of us.

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