Tuesday, 13 May 2014

Island Living

If you look closely at me, even if you don't know a thing about me, my personality or my past, you'll see that I am an island.
Essentially, I live an isolated life as a singular block of flesh and bone. I have a giant ocean of people that bear my weight and support me. They keep me from sinking.
But if you look closely, you'll see that I'm an island.
Every morning, the sun falls on my grains of sand, the waves wash my golden shores, my coconut trees dance and swing about in tandem with the gusts of wind that my ocean blows towards me. There are days when the tide is high, and nights when the waters recede far behind, showing me yards of my own self, like a mirror that doesn't lie. Sometimes there are tidal waves that ravage and plunder my innocent beaches, and after those, the only thing left to do is rehabilitate and recuperate. After all, moving forward is an option we must always choose in life.
If you look closely, I am an island and there is no civilization anywhere close by. All you see around my shores is the salty blue water. Ships come and go like expendable answers to a multiple-choice quiz. Anchors never manage to dig deep enough to not sway away with the winds and the waves.
If you look close enough, we are all islands. Singularity is a constant that's always going to accompany you. Along with that gorgeous ocean of your people. They'll never let you sink.

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