I considered bringing a person, someone to keep me company. But I thought myself too selfish, why should I desert another person when they can set out to have a happy, successful life. I considered bringing a tool, something useful. After all, a human’s primal instinct is to survive. But I thought myself too practical, why should I deny myself the pleasure of entertainment. I considered bringing a book, my favorite of the sorts: Edgar Allan Poe. But I thought myself too romantic. Reading a book on an island for the rest of my life would dwindle my love for reading. The book would gather dust after the first few years. So maybe rather than bringing something along, I leave something behind. I leave behind my worries. I leave behind my doubts. I leave behind my fears. All intangible, I know. But by leaving these behind, I am left with being content. I am left with myself. And the ability to be completely me is all I need.
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