My Island | Teen Ink

My Island

March 29, 2013
By FishboytheWriter PLATINUM, Nogales, Arizona
FishboytheWriter PLATINUM, Nogales, Arizona
21 articles 0 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Chaos, disaster, and disorder-My work here is done." --Mr. Fontes

I sit in the center of a lonesome island. It is a plain and barren island, defenseless as alienation. And I reside on this naked and forsaken spec of land, because I was put here, condemned and marooned for not fitting in. Put aside like the jigsaw piece that just doesn't have a place, disregarded until I shape up. Rehabilitation for the greater good of society. No doubt that is how they will phrase it. It's how they will justify the depressing sight of one who doesn't belong. Rehabilitation to better a society that stopped believing in fairy tales and magic, dragons and trolls, true love and honest compassion.

They expect me to slowly morph, to be like them, to change out of shear will, out of want for acceptance. It has happened before, it has been proven to work. This must have been a method, though, sold to them on the misconception that we are all the same, yet obviously not.

They regard it as a miracle cure, but it's more of a merciless curse. They will implant a thought, as you're ferried to a desolate mound, that you are inadequate, deserving of all the consternation you will receive. And receive you shall. It will be hurled at you on the backs of catcalls, shouts and jeers across the harsh, dark sea.

They stick in the brain, feed the mind, gorge it until it becomes a monster. A monster hungry for the light left within you, devouring the things bright and good within you, leaving things dark and evil in stead. It will work as is its fashion, rationally making everything as horrid as itself, making you believe the malicious words that cross the tossing sea. Making you believe the insanity of hatred and disgust, of distrust. It's hard not to listen to the poisonous words that are spoken in your own voice, it's so difficult not to succumb to the lies of a convincing imposter.

Once more I find myself listening to the venom that was concocted from my thoughts and their words. Once more I find myself staring at my dark reflection, seeing not my face but the monster they claim that I am. Once more I look to the vast sea as a way of escape, a welcoming expanse compared to the suffocating space occupied by black thoughts. Once more I feel the desperation and depression come and stand by me, filling the emptiness around me, claiming what little bit of space I have been given.

There is no more room in my head for the evil thoughts, not enough room for the insatiable monster. It spills out of my mouth like poisonous words. It pours down my cheeks like bitter tears. It oozes out like a cold sweat. It grows from my fingertips like killer talons. It lingers like a devil fog, clouding everything that was ever good. The monster joins the horrid pair, the paralyzingly depression and hopeless desperation.

I hate being alone, I hate being out cast and ostracized; I love being different, I love being weird and original. I look to the restless waves around the island and see the blotted bodies of those who had surrendered to the monster, their joy subjugated by the cruel pairing of depression and despair. I see the masses of those who just gave up and know that I must not allow my hope to collapse into the water. I see the crimes of those who want me to be like them and know I could never accept them on their crowded island.

This is my island, this is my place, this is where I am supposed to be. I am a the lone jigsaw piece, I am a grand puzzle and its answer. I am in the niche meant for me, here were I was so gracelessly discarded, on this too-small bit of land. It is mine yet they still want to claim it, they still try to fill it with their misdeeds and maledictions. They try to take it from me, but I can't allow that. I can't let this slip away now that I know that this is where I was always meant to be, where I belong, my place. And I must take it back.

I fill it with what I am, I let the things I love be conjured in the spaces of the island and slowly chase away the dark thoughts. One by one they appear on the island, one by one they chase the blackness away. Dragons and trolls, fairies and elves, giants and dwarves; creatures that I always loved, creatures whose existence brought me to this island, creatures that now help me conquer and make it mine. I believe and love the fairytales, that is what makes me who I am, and it is with that love that I fill this island. It is with the knowledge that where I am is where I am meant to be, that I belong on this wonderful island.

The author's comments:
This one is about accepting what makes you different from everyone else, about rising above the abuse you'll receive from people who won't understand your passion, and about understanding that "home" isn't found, it's made and we belong wherever we choose to.

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