03
I blinked and took in the room around me and felt uncomfortably comfortable. I turned the page.
Estimated location: Pacific
Weather notes: Heat (strong), ocean currents (unforgiving), nights (cold).
Health: Deteriorating. Blisters continuing, hydration near fatal, lasting headache, severe hunger, losing will.
Personal notes: Where is the search team. No helicopters, planes, or ships anywhere? My mother is rotting beside me. I have to let her go. Maybe I’ll go with her. I can’t. Should I? I want to. What if a ship comes, though? I can’t give up yet. There is more still. Hand shaky.
Aside: I should note my inventory levels, categorized:
- Practical:
- 96 tethered lifejackets
- 12 small airline blankets
- small handheld mirror
- 1 New York Yankees baseball cap
- 41 empty oxygen masks
- Leisure:
- 1 copy of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, hard cover
- 1 pencil case containing 12 HB pencils
- 2 papermate pens
- Food:
- 79 packets of salted pretzels
- 46 coffee biscuits
- 61 100mL capsules of coffee creamer
- 38 tea bags (assorted)
- Mom
This is all I had in the aftermath of the crash.
Shutting the book again, I rested it atop my chest and imagined floating weightlessly through the universe as thousands upon thousands of ancient stars glimmered around me. I moved through nebulas and supernovas as beautiful canvases of colours and gases presented them to me. All the emotions I had felt at sea flowed back to me just as the moon pulls back the tide.
Exult O shores!
Sometimes when everything seems to be going wrong and you’re trapped in a world of darkness your soul takes over and creates light. I remembered vividly drifting through the ocean and experiencing a refined sense of calm and, feeling tired, I allowed my eyes to close.
Out on the ocean, I’d lie awake many nights. Water, and the ocean in particular, is a pensive body. Despite the arrant loneliness, I was free. Free to think, reflect, wonder, cry, and express. I remember frequently gazing up at the celestial bodies that coloured the sky. The sky is desperately clear in the middle of the Pacific, and the water moves in harmony with the shimmering light of the moon as if the two are engaged in a deep conversation.
I opened my eyes again. The blank popcorn ceiling above me filled my vision. My eyes rolled outwardly as I rustled in the bed. Pulling the sheets off me, I rose up and placed my feet upon the wooden floor. Hardwood floors, an overlooked privilege, like many other things. I walked across the room, through the hallway, past the kitchen, and towards the front door. I swept my palm across its smooth lengthy surface and stretched my hand around its cold knob. Ah, it felt as cold as water. Opening the door, I walked outside and felt the dew from hundreds of tiny grass tips sprinkle my toes with small water droplets. My lips pursed upwards slightly as I bent down and brought my hands to the earth, then my body. I rolled in the grass like a barn hog in a pit of mud and probably felt similarly. After minutes of this rocking about, I sprawled on my back. As the grass whispered on my legs, I looked up at my audience of galaxies and took in a voluminous breath of air. Orion, Cassiopeia, Draco, they know all about me. My watchful guardians, the secrets they must have. They have been looking down upon us well before any of us arrived.
Nice to see you again, I thought as I lay across the lawn. It was a comforting reminder to know that the same sky that accompanied me on my sea voyage was still with me. Many nights out on the ocean I looked up in wonder at the stars. People should stargaze more often but life’s simplest treasures are often passed aside. I was interrupted when a yell erupted a few houses down, then another yell. An argument was taking place down the street. The silence was broken and my face contorted. I plucked some grass and walked back inside to my bed, thinking I should try to sleep.
Tucking the journal behind my pillow and closing my eyes, I tried to think about everyday worldly problems. Maybe I’d find a girlfriend. Maybe I’d get a boring job and invest in a plasma TV. Distracted thoughts of gulls and rays and other small sea creatures flooded my mind. I laid this way for about an hour and felt helpless, before returning to the diary under my pillow. I pulled it out and flipped to a random page in the middle.
Estimated location: Unsure, fish (abundant), water (warmer yet again).
Weather notes: Hot (estimated 30 C), cloudless sky, last rainfall 6 days ago, ocean currents (weak).
Health: Hydration levels low, little hunger, last urination one day ago, last bowel movement 3 days ago, growing fatigue, heatstroke risk imminent.
Personal notes: n.a
I flipped to another section.
1. The sea is constantly changing and each individual ripple is unique, like a butterfly.2. The sea incites wonder.
3. Not just a part of the universe, the sea is a universe in it of itself.
4. Inconceivably big, the sea never stops.
5. The sea cries when I cry.
6. The strongest of men pale in comparison to the sea.
7. The sea contains a bank of secrets.
8. The sea has an unyielding relationship with the sun, the moon, and the heavens above.
9. The sea was here before man, and will be here after man, because the sea is forever.
10. When I am at sea, I am not lost.
I remembered that several weeks prior, I had decided to save the ink in the pen for only the most important journal entries.