the island

the island, originally uploaded by tania.neves.

The sense of failure is palpable. Moments where you're able to see one's true colours, true intentions... The numbers that pop up on my phone's "missed calls" text messages, the people she used to trust - all fake. Some are even imaginary. Just like if nothing has ever even existed.

The sense? 1290 anxious days had gone past. Those days where to lead her somewhere, but that somewhere was still nowhere at sight. Frustration, loss, anxiety, almost depression, and a huge sense of loneliness and lost.

She usually would call her state of mind "the island". She was feeling like a shipwrecked - abandoned on that island, hoping for any source of help to pass by, that luckily enough someone would see her and provide her with help. She used to imagine that "they" could provide her with a nice warm blanket, gently stroke her arms and tell her: everything is gonna be alright. She'd have a cuppa tea and they would even want to hear her stories. There'd a fire somewhere, and it would feel nice and welcoming. But that wasn't the reality - she knew that. Actually, she was even already building her own raft out of the scarce trees leftovers... and starving.

She didn't remember how she had ended up there. Or maybe she did, but her mind was playing tricks on her saying it wasn't worth it. Wait... she must wait patiently. One day, that help with sail by. Then they will be able to pull her along...
...and I will be able to smile again.