Its weird how many doors we close in our lifetime. Some doors stay closed for just a week, others take years to open. Some doors are sealed shut. We are always looking for something on the other side of those openings, hoping we find what we are searching for. Each door needs a key and sometimes keys get lost or stolen and sometimes forgotten. We like to drop them in cushions or hide them under a mat. We let others know there is a key there hoping they will open the door, but they don't. People just don't care for certain things like yourself. We all have different wants, desires and needs, somethings we care for and others we just push aside. Feelings get messed up and twirled in a bowl of confusion and uncertainty. After the bowl stops from being stirred, we are left alone and unconscious.
I know I'm not alone on the deserted island, there are many of you like me. We fall off the boat and get brought to this shore, we've gone missing. We hope someone will sail across the sea to come looking for us, but many islands surround us and the sea is a vast dark mass. Most of us don't make it to shore, we lose hope and drown in it. We get buried and aren't found for many years.
The island is where I am at. Its cold many nights and its hard to find something satisfying to call home for the night. We have many of these nights and some nights we don't bother sleeping, we think. Will I ever be discovered? Or will I be that treasure that gets buried for many years? When will I get rescued? The ocean breeze of mystification.
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