Abandoned Cast Aways:
a letter to you both
Okay, so we've been stranded on this little boat for 3 years now. This I've not to tell you, it isn't or shouldn't reach you as a surprise; you've been right here beside me, the both of you and I beside you just as well, or worse. I should think that if at all surprised, it should be by the length of time being so short not so long. I may not speak for the 3 of us but it has felt like much, much longer. If either of you have truly been here, solidly, then I do confide that I must speak for the 3 of us when I say its felt like far much longer than 3 years. The farthest of "much longer" in fact.
We've each spoken of going our separate ways, taking a chance on our own. By the time you read these words, that is where I'll be, for well or worse, I have swam out further and am now possibly alive just as likely as dead. My morning swim has become a full day, depending by what time the two of you discover this letter. It shouldn't have been hard to find, our Titanic would surely sink if even one of James Cameron's camera's parked on our stern. At the driest corner where the sun upon its proudest of noons would bow down its rays and hold warmly an inviting attention; there; you must've found this page and on the page, over the sketches that documented as well as tormented my thoughts, I have written these words. Boldly and violently etched into the 8" x 11" manilla sheet.
I am gone. I have left. I wish you both the best but I am gone and I shall not return. I am selfish and I apologize if the consequence of my action hurts or harms either of you whom I do truly care for but I refuse to die out here. Out at sea, in the middle of the ocean. Stranded on a row boat that sips in water through the three holes under our feet. 3 years and we've become comfortable with transforming the situation into a unique circumstance and adapting ourselves as if we could go on as this for 3 more years, or whatever it takes before we either die or are rescued.
I realize I am leaving you both with more work, we are three but without so much as 1/3, the labour of each remaining person increases but twice. I hope my departure awakens in you both, a sense of alarm, a sense of time and necessity. I hope that my example strengthens your courage, provides a battery for your will, gasoline for your self-preservation and promotes your urgency to act now. This instant, as you're reading...I hope that your minds are made up regardless of your feelings towards me, for abandoning you both, for writing this letter and having the neural gall to claim its an action executed in love; despite your immediate impression of me this instant, I do wish you both, do urge you both to please leave this boat. Lets part ways and we'll be better off alone, I am sure of it. If only one of you leaves, please do your best to convince the last person not to remain alone, not to attempt to keep the boat on their own. You'll surely sink, the 3 holes are much stronger and consistent than any one of us. If you die even an inch further away from where we've been stranded for 3 years, then you have made progress. You have been as consistent as the holes that mean to drown you.
Goodbye, so long.
We'll meet on dry land,