Alternative Essays: Adrift


Ocean of emotions, I find you deep, in more ways than one. I am adrift, lost in this tremendousness, driven by your currents into territories uncharted. I feel a stranger, then I am home; unrecognized, then altogether familiar. Hugged into comfort, then shaken up by a wave; pitching and rolling, sails are useless.

I love the glass-smooth blue, but then there’s the grey, dark skies reflected in choppy waters. If it’ll rain let it, damn the thunder and lightning. I shan’t speak as a coward, but all this is quite frightening. “Abandon ship, abandon ship,” my head whispers to my heart. I’d cut my losses and run, but I can’t walk across the sea.

I’m delirious, these tropical beaches dotted with coconut palms are mirages: proofs of my unwellness. Fetch me a drink, hail me a passing yacht. Dream on, dream on, dreamer. The sun is large overhead, a ball of judgmental fire blazing with unrighteous fury. Another manifestation of you? Probably so, probably not.

I’m awake and moving again. How? I don’t know. I, castaway. You, moody lover. “Smooth sailing,” the steady winds seem to say. (But I am no more a sailor now than Robinson Crusoe was upon his island home.) Aye, captain, aye. I hear you. I’m the first mate again, reinstated to a place of honour.