Wanderlust

I came up for air as the water enveloped around me, rippling to the surface peacefully. I ran a hand over my soaked hair and floated onto my back. Shutting my eyes, I allowed myself to think back. The black slate didn't yield anything that I already knew: nothing.

I did this everyday, same time, in hopes that I would get a glimpse of something of myself. I woke up in the middle of the dense wooded area a year ago and I have not been able to remember who I am since that moment. I don't know where I came from or who my parents are, if I have any parents left. I don't even know my name, my age.

It's a miracle I'm alive still. I had to learn how to survive on my own and only my own. Any human contact was rare, and if I did come across someone else, they were usually rabid and blood thirsty with delusions. I've never had a conversation with someone who didn't want to kill me and I could feel myself slipping away because of it.

I concentrated hard, squeezing my eyes shut so hard that I saw that white static dancing around behind me eyes. There was nothing, just a headache and more pent up frustration. I let myself sink below the surface, hitting the bottom of the pond I had set up my camp nearby. I let the anxiety and frustrations pour out of me under the safety of the water, my muscles loosening and the stress floating away with the current of the water.

I swam back up to the surface and climbed out of the pond and dried myself off, looking around and noticing that I was out of food. I sighed, also noticing that it was getting darker by the minute and sun was only peaking out beyond the horizon, coloring the sky an array of colors. This was the part of the day that I waited for, the sunset. I felt like in the life I didn't know I would have liked sunsets. I sat an watched them everyday while eating my dinner, some nights though I didn't get dinner and woke with a growling stomach. Tonight was one of those nights and I sat and watched the sunset, falling asleep under the darkening sky.