I needed to get away. It’s been a while since I flew, but just like riding a bike, once I sat in that pilot’s seat, it came back to me instantly. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, nor how long I would be gone, so I packed what felt like a month’s worth of bags and just went with wherever the wind took me. Four or five hours after take off, I found myself landing on the nearest island I could find. Knowing messages from loved ones would fly in, I sent a mass text to everyone I could think of saying I was fine and I’d be gone for a while, and turned off my phone.
Two weeks later, I’m still here. I know I have the choice to leave, but it’s too beautiful here. A nearby waterfall provides me with fresh water daily, and I’ve even picked up fishing. Who knew being in the Boy Scouts throughout my youth would actually come in handy? Enjoying the sunrise and set, delicious seafood meals, the glistening blue water, and sound of waves crashing on to the shore with only myself to keep me company, is a newfound routine that I have already grown accustomed to.
Here, I can just forget about it all; forget about all the work I put in to my job only to have it go unappreciated; forget about paying bills I don’t want to pay; forget about how shitty adult life can really be. There’s a war going on inside my head. I know I should head back and be with my loved ones, but then again, I’ve always been the outsider. It’s why I’ve always avoided family get-togethers. It’s why I remained single for so long. Living alone on an island and fully embracing nature has been the best time of my life. Maybe this is where I’m meant to be.