The Misconception of Deserted Islands

I thought I needed myself.I was under the impression that the only person, place, or thing I would ever need would be me. Not a single other thing.  But then I found myself on a deserted island, not a person for miles, alone and relying on myself to survive, to not give up when it seemed like the worst, convincing myself that I wasn't crazy as I estimated the height of a concrete wall and searched for death. I thought all I needed was myself until I spent most hours a day lying in bed by myself.Till I forgot to speak when I was around friends and family. Till I found more comfort in my eyes closed then open. Till I forgot the pain of watching my brother when he was on this exact island. Till I found it was just myself that I had.  I was not enough.  I could not provide the means to survive this deserted island.  It is not food or water I spent the time searching for, it was my mind. I played hide and seek desperately looking for clarity. I needed something, but that something wasn't concrete. It wasn't an object or a commonly referred to emotional state. It wasn't time or love or happiness or a puppy. It was something unidentified.  And I could combine cliches of inner peace, self understanding, open minded outlooks, and a series of unfortunate events that made me stronger, but we are all human. We all see the highs and the lows of ourselves and our loved ones.  I envision that at some point whether 16 or 60 every person will feel this unnamed state.  That is what I needed to survive.  The knowledge that I had never actually been on a deserted island. I landed where my ancestors, my friends, and my family had all been before. This was the place that we were built from, the womb of our second birth.I needed my second birth.  We all need our second birth to achieve more than just survival.  

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741