Yearned to be Alone.

I hear the ocean waves, softly in the distance, hitting the beach. Songbirds sing out under the shade of a few palm trees nearby. Laying on dry ruffled palm leaves, which crackle with each movement, I just continue to lay there stiff. I smell the ocean, but I smell more of me than the ocean. I smell of salt, sand, sweat and more from the weeks of isolation on this forsaken island. An island of paradise and hell rolled into one. Views of beauty during the day, but terror in the night. Bats, bugs, wild boar, don’t scare me, it’s the pack of dogs which scare me. They too are here on this, on this, God-Damned island.

During the day, the beastly dogs stay near the rocky hills on the far side of the island. Out-of-the-powerful rays of the sun at mid-day, near cool fresh water as it comes down the hill into a small creek and protected from ocean storms. The leader of the pack is a bitch, huge even when sitting, stronger than any dog I’ve ever seen and louder than angry cab drivers in a traffic jam.

When the sun begins to set is when my heart begins to pound louder and harder. I try to calm myself as I climb into the one tree I’m for certain the dogs will not try to climb. From atop the tree, on one of its largest branches, I sit and tie myself to the trunk. In the distance, as I sit alone in the dark, I hear the squeal of a boar. The squeal sounds become more intense and more of a scream made from a woman than a wild animal. As I hear the dogs bark peak to a roar, I then know it is almost over. I close my eyes waiting for the silence to return in the dark. After a few moments, the silence returns, it is over. The dogs had their fill for the night and return to their home. In the dark, I just continue to sit, continue to sit tied to the tree. Too nervous to climb down the tree in the dark and mentally too weak to take on what may come. So I sit, sit some more, until the breaking dawn unfolds. It is always the sun’s rays which stir me to move from my half sleep trance. Stiff, hunger and tired I climb back down the tree with the intent to lay down on my palm leaves. I lay on the palms, stiff and let my legs relax as I eat coconut and dried ants which I had left to bake in the sun the day before.

This is what my life has become, alone, isolated and fearful of the dark. Isolated and cut off from the world on a God-Damn forsaken island. Where I’m certain to meet my end either to starvation or to the dogs. One day the boar feasts will be over, my scent will be too strong to resist and they will find me due to hunger. Alone, my heart always races, alone my I feel more distant from anyone than ever before. I don’t see the point in going on but I resist to ending it because I faint to the thought of being chewed and digested. Will I be remembered, I ask myself, will anyone ever know what happened on this island? I tried to scribble on the rocks but always get frustrated. I have tried to build fires, but on a damp humid island getting dry wood is hard and keeping it going even harder. The smoke, unfortunately, just attracts the dogs and I’m too chicken to fight them. I hate this place, I hate myself for being so scared and I hate not being able to leave. I miss it all, yet…

Being alone was something I yearned for in the past, but that’s because I worked for the man. I worked so damn much and just wanted to be left alone from the grind. I was broken, I hated work, the people and their so-called fake ass coffee conversations. I become even more broken over time, unable to withstand working with them anymore. In the end, I broke down completely and don’t remember what happened. I only remember what they told me, I held them down, I yelled at them as they screamed, I yelled until there was silence. I don’t remember much at all that day but I remember what I was told when they left me here on this God-Damned Island. “May you forever be alone, be haunted by your guilt and may the hungry dogs to keep you in check. We will not be back.” They kept their promise; I lay alone, I hear rustling in the trees nearby.