Stranded

Isolated. Cut off from society. First to leave the island would be my sanity. Escaping me slowly at first, but eventually tearing away from me like a bandaid being violently torn away from my flesh.

Next to leave would be my sense of time. Days would pass, but I wouldn't know how many or what name they went by. Sleep would disorient me, keeping me from knowing how long it had been since I stopped to rest.

Hope would escape me shortly after. The truth would start to appear to me. First shimmering, but then becoming clear, like a mirage. There was no way of leaving the island. No matter how long I was able to sustain myself there, I could not leave.

The last to go would be my life. Gently pulling away from my body after taking my last breath, my soul would drift away from the island, never to return.