Let’s Pretend: A Deserted Island

A few days ago I finished a modern – and very satirical – book, called Beauty Queens. This story has a plane of pageant contestants crash landing on an island and what happens to them afterwards. What I like about Beauty Queens (not taking into consideration its satire) is that the pageant contestants turned wild as well – thought not to the degree found in Lord of the Flies. They worked together to survive, but, away from the eyes of society they became the women they wanted to be as opposed to what society expected from them – smiling, mindless beauties.

I tried to imagine what it would be like, to be alone on an island in the middle of nowhere. Of course there are a few differences here, I wouldn’t be stranded, and I’d have the ability to go home whenever I felt like it. So what would I do, left on my own? Well, I’d probably do a lot of reading. I’d lie on the sand and read book after book; I’d daydream. When my eyes get tired I’d step into the water, I’d stand still until fishes think I’m a part of their world. I’d watch the sunset. I’d sing at the top of my lungs. I’d turn cartwheels on the beach and make angels in the sand.

I’d dig a hole, and then fill it up back again, because I can and no one would be around to question the uselessness of the task I just performed. I’d light a fire. I’d watch the flames eat up the kindling, sending smoke dancing into the clouds. I’d dance with it.

I’d be as boring as I want to be, with no one to entertain. I’d be silent in my thoughts. When I tire of silence, I’d talk to the trees, and no one will question my sanity as I satisfy my imagination.

I wouldn’t have to answer questions about my relationship status. I wouldn’t have to make up smart comments when overly curious acquaintances ask me about the “new guy” they saw me joking around with, as though one cannot laugh with a person of the opposite gender without being otherwise interested.

I wouldn’t have to explain why I suddenly burst out in song, or apologize for singing Defying Gravity at the top of my lungs. I wouldn’t have to explain that sometimes I just feel the need to skip or pirouette.

I’ve gone off on a tangent. But the thought of going away and being alone is sometimes very appealing, if just for a day, if just to be boring and slightly ridiculous – if just to be me.

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