On my little island

Chapter 1:

Where’s my little island, where there’s no one to please. Everyone hurts me and nobody leaves. I’m always a burden, so insecure and there’s nowhere that I can flee. I sure am crying, for my little island.

It was a year of adventure, a year of fright. A year to fight for my internal right, to live where I want to be what I am. To break free from the tempting traps and tedious tasks, that filled my life like a lung bursting with dust.

When my eyes floated over the shimmering sky, I always saw a trickle of drops, on drizzles of pops, of golden sunlight. In a country that aches for the right to be, how do I manage to feel so impossibly free?

It first felt like a breath of fresh air or a sincere song that I sang, and then a voice of freedom took over my tongue. My eyes were dreaming and my mind alike, was inside a haze, until that day that I embarked on a flight.

On my little island, there’s no one to please. No one can hurt me and nobody leaves. I won’t be a burden, can’t be insecure and there’s no one that I have to be. I sure will be crying, for my little island.

I wait for the piercing knife of fear to cut me up, like French cheese on a platter. That thing they call sickness for home is supposed to come, bleeding openly, causing a splatter. I wait and I wait as time rolls by, the pain keeps hovering like a cloud in the sky.

The beauty around me swallows me whole. The mountain. The monkey. The old and grim-looking trees that I so adore. My happiness bursts like a star in the sky. Instead of leaving me empty, it swallows my pity, into its deep and black hole of serendipity.

I feel childish and giddy and willing to be, what at 23 nobody really should see. The treasure chest I have opened myself, was locked in place with chains of fear of missing an old life. That tied me to pain, drained my laughter, and held me from what I was luring after—my perfectly personal disaster.

Then I was on my little island, where there was no one to please. Everyone could hurt me but nobody leaves. I feel like a burden, but am not insecure, because I had so much to endure. I don’t find myself crying on my little island.