I’m lying in my yacht with my eyes fixed to the sky. I’m trying to remember life and all that comes with it. My hair is all grew now, no family, no friends, just me and my yacht.
I remember in my early years, once a lad proposed to me and I declined, I dedicated my life to living for myself. I had this cliche, that if I wasn’t in a position of taking care of myself then how could I take care of another, but looking back I wish I had agreed, I would probably have what the society terms as normal or right, a home with children and so forth.
I remember before making the yacht my home, I had jobs knocking at my door, and every time I shut it. I didn’t think I was cut out for jobs, I wanted more than just becoming a zombie to make someone else’s dream come true. The money they offered was good but no, I didn’t want to live on land. I wonder though how it would have turned out, this is one of the rare moments when we say it’s too late.
My life has had adventure, more than most people at least. As I’ve lived in the waters and my endless journeys, I can only regret one thing, missing my parents burial. Although I have a perfect excuse: I had no way of knowing, I was too far to return I know it’s not enough but I hope they are resting fine.
As I lay here, I don’t know how many more years I have left before the fate of every being, death. But when I do leave, I will be happy with this life and I hope my soul will rest in peace.