There is something oddly comforting about seeing the sea, stretching out before you in all directions, cutting you out from the rest of the world. Floating on a boat made of rotting tree bark and uncertainty, held together with weeds and prayers, you truly begin to grasp the insignificance of life and the futility of our made-up struggles. You see no chance of salvation, no way you can get out of this alive.... but somehow knowing this makes it seem easier to accept.
You are lost at sea.
They never discuss this part in the movies. The traditional lost-at-sea movies usually portray hunger and thirst as your biggest enemy, but it's really your mind that you've got to watch out for. It's easy to forget how destructive one's own thoughts can be when there are no distractions around. Our modern life style has made us so used to having distractions that the prison we've come to fear the most is the prison within. Forget food or water; the physical pain is nothing compared to the havoc your own brain is probably wreaking at this point.
For one thing, you're imprisoned in a wide, open space. You can escape, for there are no bars or chains or gaolers... but where to? The sadistic irony of being able to escape but having nowhere to go is somehow even worse than being tortured in a dungeon. Before long, the calming aspect of the blue waters and the fresh, salty air is lost... to be replaced by an influx of irrational fear where you start thinking of all the possible ways you can still get out of this, much like a mouse would in a mouse trap. But it's OK, you're still calm... you take a deep breath, and start to think of anything else to take your mind off your slow-coming doom.
Well-played, brain.
Guess what? Remember all those repressed feelings and emotions you had locked up? With no one to talk to, they came waltzing back, laughing manically while metaphorically screaming obscenities about your mother. Remember that time your dad told you that he wasn't proud of you? HAHAHA HOW FUNNY WAS THAT? Or the time when your mom asked you for help and you let her down and had to deal with that look of sad disappointment in her eyes? Or that time the girl you thought you loved cheated on you? Ooooooooooh I'd hate to have been in your shoes. Every single repressed memory comes rushing back in HD quality, and you've got nowhere to run... No TV shows to immerse yourself in, no friends to complain to. Nothing.
Trapped inside, you struggle to find anything to busy yourself with, but there's nothing you can do apart from taking a swim around your boat. Your food is almost out, and you've drunk your last gulp of stale water hours ago. You're starting to panic now. You're nowhere near any signs of human civilization, and you haven't seen any boats or airplanes anywhere. You'd read somewhere that seagulls are a sign of land, but all you've seen so far is a flock of migratory birds, flying purposefully overhead in a direction unknown to you. You'd long since given up on trying to use the stars to guide you, because you were not born in the tenth century and therefore don't have the necessary skills to do that. You chuckle at your own wit for a second, and then remember again that you're slowly dying so you start panicking again.
But what's that you see? Is that a tree-top in the distance? That couldn't be an island, could it? Suddenly you get an influx of inexplicable energy, and a renewed sense of purpose. Maybe there's still a chance. Maybe you can still live! The lazy pace at which the boat is drifting is not enough anymore. You lean forward and you paddle with your hands left and right, conserving energy be damned. The harder you paddle, the further the tree seems to get... It's like the least fun game of tag in the world. You stop paddling, and the island seems to stop moving. You start feeling that you're the butt of a cosmic joke, where an all-powerful being of insurmountable power is playing cat and mouse with you. Somehow you're not laughing.
It dawns on you... It's a mirage. It's your Goddamned brain at work again. Your worst enemy.
You lean back and you collapse, exhausted and sweaty... and you can't afford to sweat. The minute you get dehydrated and start drinking seawater, it's over. The sea is as vast as ever, and the land was a lie. You stop panicking, for you've accepted your fate. Seawater is starting to seem like a good idea...
Maybe if you hadn't used up all your energy chasing a shadow, you'd have survived long enough for the passenger ship that would pass in a few hours to save you. What? You don't like the irony of it? Bleak irony's kind of my thing now.
Sometimes when you're lost in a sea of your own thoughts, unable to see land, your mind feels obliged to give you what you seek. But it's not helping you. Sometimes the lesser of two evils is a slow, painful realization rather than temporary relief at the prospect of salvation, followed by a 10,000 foot drop to reality.
Your mind is not always your friend.
You are lost at sea.
They never discuss this part in the movies. The traditional lost-at-sea movies usually portray hunger and thirst as your biggest enemy, but it's really your mind that you've got to watch out for. It's easy to forget how destructive one's own thoughts can be when there are no distractions around. Our modern life style has made us so used to having distractions that the prison we've come to fear the most is the prison within. Forget food or water; the physical pain is nothing compared to the havoc your own brain is probably wreaking at this point.
For one thing, you're imprisoned in a wide, open space. You can escape, for there are no bars or chains or gaolers... but where to? The sadistic irony of being able to escape but having nowhere to go is somehow even worse than being tortured in a dungeon. Before long, the calming aspect of the blue waters and the fresh, salty air is lost... to be replaced by an influx of irrational fear where you start thinking of all the possible ways you can still get out of this, much like a mouse would in a mouse trap. But it's OK, you're still calm... you take a deep breath, and start to think of anything else to take your mind off your slow-coming doom.
Well-played, brain.
Guess what? Remember all those repressed feelings and emotions you had locked up? With no one to talk to, they came waltzing back, laughing manically while metaphorically screaming obscenities about your mother. Remember that time your dad told you that he wasn't proud of you? HAHAHA HOW FUNNY WAS THAT? Or the time when your mom asked you for help and you let her down and had to deal with that look of sad disappointment in her eyes? Or that time the girl you thought you loved cheated on you? Ooooooooooh I'd hate to have been in your shoes. Every single repressed memory comes rushing back in HD quality, and you've got nowhere to run... No TV shows to immerse yourself in, no friends to complain to. Nothing.
Trapped inside, you struggle to find anything to busy yourself with, but there's nothing you can do apart from taking a swim around your boat. Your food is almost out, and you've drunk your last gulp of stale water hours ago. You're starting to panic now. You're nowhere near any signs of human civilization, and you haven't seen any boats or airplanes anywhere. You'd read somewhere that seagulls are a sign of land, but all you've seen so far is a flock of migratory birds, flying purposefully overhead in a direction unknown to you. You'd long since given up on trying to use the stars to guide you, because you were not born in the tenth century and therefore don't have the necessary skills to do that. You chuckle at your own wit for a second, and then remember again that you're slowly dying so you start panicking again.
But what's that you see? Is that a tree-top in the distance? That couldn't be an island, could it? Suddenly you get an influx of inexplicable energy, and a renewed sense of purpose. Maybe there's still a chance. Maybe you can still live! The lazy pace at which the boat is drifting is not enough anymore. You lean forward and you paddle with your hands left and right, conserving energy be damned. The harder you paddle, the further the tree seems to get... It's like the least fun game of tag in the world. You stop paddling, and the island seems to stop moving. You start feeling that you're the butt of a cosmic joke, where an all-powerful being of insurmountable power is playing cat and mouse with you. Somehow you're not laughing.
It dawns on you... It's a mirage. It's your Goddamned brain at work again. Your worst enemy.
You lean back and you collapse, exhausted and sweaty... and you can't afford to sweat. The minute you get dehydrated and start drinking seawater, it's over. The sea is as vast as ever, and the land was a lie. You stop panicking, for you've accepted your fate. Seawater is starting to seem like a good idea...
Maybe if you hadn't used up all your energy chasing a shadow, you'd have survived long enough for the passenger ship that would pass in a few hours to save you. What? You don't like the irony of it? Bleak irony's kind of my thing now.
Sometimes when you're lost in a sea of your own thoughts, unable to see land, your mind feels obliged to give you what you seek. But it's not helping you. Sometimes the lesser of two evils is a slow, painful realization rather than temporary relief at the prospect of salvation, followed by a 10,000 foot drop to reality.
Your mind is not always your friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment