What a grand joke you are.
One moment you make me feel like DiCaprio screaming from the bow of a ship.
And moments later, I’m waist deep in the Atlantic and the man in front of me is saying the life-rafts are full up.
Now what? I guess I start swimming.
I ask the drowning man next to me, “Which way to Newfoundland?”
His gesticulations are hard to read accurately.
I make a best guess,
and paddle away.
I guess that’s the nature of the game. Can’t really see the destination. Like a foggy swim in the north Atlantic. Just gotta hope I’ve got the energy to make it.
And hope I have my bearings right.
I think the Buddha once told me, “if you’re pointed in the right direction, all you have to do is keep going.” (quotes for the drowning man, how ironic). Well here’s hoping. I guess that’s all I’ve got; arms, legs, and some hope.
Occasional thoughts come and go. Wishes.
Why’d it have to happen at night? At least during the day I could see my surroundings, enjoy the sunshine.
But think of the sunburn. Ouch! Not pleasant.
Why’d it have to be the ocean and not just a really big lake? At least in a lake I could drink the water. God-damn I’m thirsty! But think of how much easier it is to stay afloat in saltwater. I could even take a little nap perhaps.
Why didn’t I bring my dingy? Proper planning for crying out loud! But then I’d be fighting a mob of people who wanted a ride. And think of the look on little Cindy-Lou’s face as I tell her, “Sorry little one, there just isn’t enough room. You took swimming lessons, right?”
So I guess all those “what-ifs” and “could-of-beens” and “if-onlys” don’t really mean a damn thing.
Here we are. How we are. Who we are. And that’s just the way of it.