I remain stuck in this sorrowful sea. I may have been a bit hasty in burning my bridges with our Great and Wonderful Captain. Landfall seemed imminent—I could feel the firm and motionless ground beneath me, the gravity of stillness was already wrapping its tethers around my bones. That was but a passing fantasy. We remain tussled in this torment. My less than generous side longs to accuse Our Fair Captain of sabotaging my dream—be it out of anger or disgust—but I’m sure she wants rid of me as much as I want to be free from this eternal gloom.
That’s not why I write this passage though.
I take this unbargained for time to scribble down my thoughts, as scattered as they are, to prepare you of the inevitable—and if it has already came to pass then as a record of the events leading up to my dreadful understanding.
It is perhaps idealistic of me to believe that at some point these words will prove meaningful to someone. But vain hope is all I have to cling to, for in my current situation meaning is difficult to secure.
Bide these words as a warning, a malediction, or a prayer.
Through forces out of control, out of balance, and stronger than imagination itself our lives, our world, existence itself, are in danger. How I have come upon this knowledge will remain a mystery, even to me. My memory is fleeting and my mind is tattered and worn. My life is a series of potentialities—a series of futures spawning and fanning-out across an infinite ocean crashing upon an immovable shore.
My world, as best as I can determine, spun out of control one year ago when I had the despicable honor of meeting The Venerable Mr. Freud. He took an automatic shine to me—why I do not know, and I dare not recall. With wine and promises of enrichment and understanding he lured me into his Grasp. Due to my weakness, or greed, or restlessness, I did not question. Mr. Freud and his Minions had wrapped me so completely in their spell that I could not glimpse behind the veil that hid the true majesty of the shadowy world they inhabit.
When it first dawned on me the world had changed without my noticing, it was already far too late. Perhaps it’s not to late for others to learn from my multitude of mistakes.
So here I am. Confined to a rickety wrack of a ship sailing for the New World. From this vantage point I cannot be sure if I’m escaping, being exiled or excommunicated. And likewise I don’t know if I’m seeking solace, redemption, or revenge.
It is my calling and my unique displeasure to do whatever is within my limited power to make sure that these crazed cacklings of madmen do not manifest their evil upon this earth.
But this journey has already taken from me more than I wish I could give and has left in return nothing but bitterness and disregard for myself and my fellow man. If there is truth to be found all I know is it is not in this confinement that I have found myself withering in. It is my sincere and only hope that sitting my boots upon solid ground will steady my mind and calm my soul.