I suddenly find myself overburdened with the possibility that nobody wants me back. After being lost for countless days -that number is just the first one that came to my head-, waiting to be rescued while the seasons keep passing by, for the first time ever, I don’t know if any good will come from it.

The ice melted fortnights ago, and the sea has been calmed for weeks now. It’s just a matter of time, I’ll soon see a vessel over the horizon getting closer and closer. This time it’ll be real, not a fantasy or an illusion. Warm hands will embrace me once again, and they’ll take me back.

But for what? Enemies kept piling, allies moved on, friends forgot about me. There’s no need to confirm this, it’s the truth. Why face it? They told stories to themselves in order to keep on going with their lives.

The ones that really knew me could’ve replaced their good memories and turned me into the villain they needed to be stronger. If I could take a guess, the strangers are the ones that would adore me, creating wild idealizations of the man I could have never become. Friends get new friends in order to keep cultivating new friendships.

Who in their right mind would save a space for me inside of their head while dealing with their own struggles. Maybe I was even the cause of their miseries.

Who in their right mind would want to come back to face such debacle.

I fear I fabricated my own safe haven, my own personal prison, away from it all. And soon I will lose it all under the lie of a ‘rescue’, of ‘returning to the modern world’, of ‘giving me my life back’.

The day will come when I’ll see a vessel over the horizon, getting closer and closer, and I’ll leave their line of sight, losing myself inside yet again. For I will not reappear to become a problem,. If the problem has already been erased, and idealizations have been construed, then that’s the victory I choose, one I could have never achieved surrounded by the same people that wanted me rescued or wanted me forgotten.