Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
(Thanks to Simon and Garfunkel.)
You’re still floating out there, lonely, drifting, wet.
The floating wreckage is a part of you. It rocks you with it, gently with the waves. Water lapping up against the edge, sounding like the ocean knocking on your door and with each rap of its mighty fist, the door opens wider and wider. You start to think.
“The sun is shining down on me. There is nothing but water surrounding me.”
Holy shit! Where are you?
“Who am I?” Everything is blank, Tabla Rasa.
Darkness.
Again, you wake. This time it is night, but it isn’t cold. The water’s warm, and you’re thirsty, terribly. You look up and see nothing but the stars in the darkness, almost taunting you. You start to cry. You don’t know where you are, or who the FUCK you are. You’re alone and afraid. Come on! Think! Where are you? Who are you? What are you doing here? What brought you out here into the middle of fucking nowhere?
Depression sets in. Hopelessness builds. The fear comes back. But, it’s all you know now since you’re FLOATING ON A PIECE OF WRECKAGE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOFUCKINGWHERE! You pass out from the fear.
Morning comes and all there exists is fear. The rain is relentless and slowly drowning you. The panic is unstable. Irrational thoughts about people that you may have loved want to be thought, but cannot be recalled. You’re alone, and you’re convinced you’re going to die here. Do you think anyone knows where you are? If so, would it take this long for them to find you? Luckily, the sun breaks through, but you’re still no better off. You’re just as wet, and your situation becomes more desperate. Your ability to cling to life is slipping with each passing second.
Survive. Someone will come…but is your life worth saving?
Darkness returns. Ah, sleep. Sleep is the mother of all drugs. You recall all those times that you wanted to stay awake. The times where you thought you still had something relevant to say. Those other times where you wish you could sleep forever. Sleep helps you forget all those things that hurt you. All those things that you want to forget.
Eyes open. You’re still floating out there. This piece of floating wreckage is a part of you now. It’s the only thing that you have of the life you can’t remember.
All you think is death, and you welcome it. It’s obviously your time. This is how your end is supposed to be. Open your arms and embrace it.
Darkness comes again.
“Hey…Heyyyy! Hey!”
Your eyes open, you’re still drifting, but you know your end is coming soon. So who the hell is that?
“What *are you doing floating out here?” You’re still confused. All you remember is the days of floating, but you still can’t recall how you got here. You’re in the middle of the ocean, you and another. “Why are you out here? Where did you come from?”
Lie. Do anything to get her on her way.
“The beach. That’s where I came from.” You think. At least that’s a feasible explanation. It makes the most sense in your current situation.
“The beach?” She sounds skeptical. “You came from the beach?”
Believe in your lie.
“Yeah, I just started floating from the beach.” The absurd things emanating from your mind come out of your mouth. “I was walking out of my hut, after a long night’s sleep. I spent the previous day surfing, and I thought to myself,” come on! Sell it! “’You never float anymore.’ When I was a child growing up, I used to spend days floating, just to see how far I could go.” Yeah! That childhood reference was gold! “Now I’m just floating. I think I’ll start heading back soon.” Perhaps that’s all she needs to hear. Now go! Leave him to die. Oh man, is she getting closer?
“Heading back? You don’t say…” Oh fuck! You slipped up.
“Uh yeah, I think I’ve gone far enough. Time to head back.” More like time for her to head back. All you want is for her to leave.
“So, how long have you been out here?” OH NO! Please, why won’t you leave him to die? He’s begging you, no more questions.
“Well, how long have you been swimming?” Nice! Now you’ve got her. “Leave”, you say to yourself, “LEAVE!”
“How do you know if we left from the same place?” Now she’s got you! Don’t break you weak fuck.
“Well, then...Where did you come from?” Answer and leave.
“Pattaya. I’m swimming to Surat Thani.” Oh shit. Think. Pattaya. Surat Thani. Pattaya. Surat Thani. Thani. Thai. “THAILAND!” you blurt out.
Oh Christ, now you’ve blown it. Well done, you big dumbshit.
“I knew it! I could hear it in your voice! You didn’t float out here, right?” She has you. No need to lie anymore. Not like you were any good at it.
Things are slowly coming back to you. You’re in Thailand. Why?
“How far are we?” You try to change the subject. Good.
“Well, I’ve been swimming for about 8 hours now. So I’d say 120 kilometers out in the…”
“Gulf of Thailand. Thanks, I’ve gathered.” Embarrassing, yet relieving. But that still doesn’t answer how you got there. “What reason do you have to swim across the damn gulf?” She’s a swimmer, or better yet, a triathlete.
“What? I can’t go swimming unless I have a reason? I just feel like swimming the gulf once in a while. I’ve done it for years. Why does it matter to you?”
You reply, “I’m not saying that you can’t go swimming without any reason. I just find it odd that we happen to bump into each other like this.”
You can feel her climbing aboard, now both of you are floating on this hunk of something.
“Where did you come from? Really.” You can’t escape her questions. Tell her the truth. Trust. There’s no one else you can count on out here. She’s just one person. Tell her you’ve been here for days, and have given up all hope.
“I don’t remember.” The truth feels good.
Then, like a horrible rage of terror mixed in with the emotions that tag along with it, your memories come back in a mash of joy, hurt, desperation, loneliness, avoidance, dependency, and finally that feeling you get when you’ve lost your love.
You start to spill.
“There was a person. My friend. The woman that I love…or is it loved?” You aren’t sure. “She left our home and came here to find herself. I couldn’t take it. I had to come and see her. I wrote her telling her that I was coming. She sent me a message to meet at the Grand Royal Palace in Bangkok. That was last week, I think. Well, she didn’t show. I realized that it was because I didn’t give her enough time or space. I went to different hubs around the region, and no luck. So I decided to give up and give her the largest amount of space anyone can give. And the only way one can do that is through death. The ultimate space.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
Strength, courage, and the fear.
It all comes back...
You never really understand a situation like flying a single engine airplane into the Gulf of Thailand until you’re actually doing it.
There’s fear unlike any other. It’s this fear that freezes you and forces you to think. What or whom do you think about when you know you’re going to die?
Your last day at the job,
The brave question,
Your friendship,
The breakdown,
The space,
Her leaving,
Your letter,
Your travel,
Your sadness,
Her loss,
Your end.
The image is still fresh. The smile, and her eyes. The squinty face that exuded happiness…or so you thought.
And at impact, the one person that you loved the most is in your mind. This moment had frozen in eternity. Too bad it was that love for the same person that drove you to do this.
You can actually feel her eyes widen as you speak. Fear and confusion, you know those feelings well.
“When I came out here, I never expected to survive. I expected to die. When I couldn’t do that, I gave up again and waited for death again.”
“You came out here to die?” It sounds morbidly beautiful. Her words are gentle and sympathetic. NO! She has to leave. Don’t let her help you.
“Yes, I did! I wanted to give it up and lose it all.” You never thought you’d have to explain your own suicide(s). “And it seems I can’t even do that right.”
What’s that? Her hand taking yours. You hear sobbing, and know that if you could see her, her eyes would be red and puffy.
“Why? Why would you do something like that?” In truth, you don’t really know. It just seems like the only option.
“I did this to cause pain. To someone. Anyone. Her. I felt deserted. Unloved. Alone. So why would anyone care about whether or not I lived or died?” Your explanation is a paradox.
“That doesn’t make any sense. There’s so much to live for. I mean, just because you can’t have your love anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have that love in yourself. Let that love live, so hopefully, one day, that love can help you become a better person. Let the memory of her love help you. She wouldn’t want you to end up this way. She probably still loves you, but it’s obvious that she needs more time and more space. Perhaps it was a mistake coming to Thailand.”
She’s right. Sweet lord, where was she when you rented the airplane? “You really mean that, don’t you?” Her hand tightens around yours.
“Listen to me. Let’s get off of this wreckage. Obviously, God didn’t intend on you dying out here. If She had, you wouldn’t be here, talking to me.” Her words are the truth.
“We’re in the middle of the fucking gulf! Where could we go?”
“Ko Tao. It’s an island about 30 kilos from here. It’s a safety place for me if I ever need to stop during this swim. If we leave now, we’ll get there by sunrise.” She’s in the water now.
Go with her. It makes more sense than staying here.
“Just let go of that remaining piece of your past, and swim with me, please.” Listen to her plead. She speaks the truth.
The sun is coming up. The water is still warm. You feel baptized by the waves slowly cresting over you. You can see a beach; it’s not that far now.
“We’re almost there.” This is the first time you’ve actually seen her. The light reflecting from the water illuminates her face.
That tanned skin. Her curly hair. Her eyes, such a beautiful green.
As you wash up ashore, the climbing sun is keeping you warm. She gets up and you ask for water. Moments later, she comes back with a bottle of fresh, clean, safe water. She holds your face as you drink savagely from her.
The water is like a new sense of life. There is definitely something to live for. You’re convinced that there will always be someone that cares about you. But more important than that, your love saved you. The desire and love of life was what rescued you.
“Thank you. Thank you for saving my life. But most of all thank you for showing me that there’s a reason for living. If not for someone else, then definitely for myself.” This feeling is unlike any other you’ve ever felt. You feel alive. You feel whole. You feel good about everything. “I can’t believe it. Here I thought my love was the reason for dying when in reality…”
“Your love was the reason for living.”
Her hand is holding my face. So small, so fragile.
“What's her name?” She asks.
“Her name is Emily.”
You’re still floating out there, lonely, drifting, wet.
The floating wreckage is a part of you. It rocks you with it, gently with the waves. Water lapping up against the edge, sounding like the ocean knocking on your door and with each rap of its mighty fist, the door opens wider and wider. You start to think.
“The sun is shining down on me. There is nothing but water surrounding me.”
Holy shit! Where are you?
“Who am I?” Everything is blank, Tabla Rasa.
Darkness.
Again, you wake. This time it is night, but it isn’t cold. The water’s warm, and you’re thirsty, terribly. You look up and see nothing but the stars in the darkness, almost taunting you. You start to cry. You don’t know where you are, or who the FUCK you are. You’re alone and afraid. Come on! Think! Where are you? Who are you? What are you doing here? What brought you out here into the middle of fucking nowhere?
Depression sets in. Hopelessness builds. The fear comes back. But, it’s all you know now since you’re FLOATING ON A PIECE OF WRECKAGE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOFUCKINGWHERE! You pass out from the fear.
Morning comes and all there exists is fear. The rain is relentless and slowly drowning you. The panic is unstable. Irrational thoughts about people that you may have loved want to be thought, but cannot be recalled. You’re alone, and you’re convinced you’re going to die here. Do you think anyone knows where you are? If so, would it take this long for them to find you? Luckily, the sun breaks through, but you’re still no better off. You’re just as wet, and your situation becomes more desperate. Your ability to cling to life is slipping with each passing second.
Survive. Someone will come…but is your life worth saving?
Darkness returns. Ah, sleep. Sleep is the mother of all drugs. You recall all those times that you wanted to stay awake. The times where you thought you still had something relevant to say. Those other times where you wish you could sleep forever. Sleep helps you forget all those things that hurt you. All those things that you want to forget.
Eyes open. You’re still floating out there. This piece of floating wreckage is a part of you now. It’s the only thing that you have of the life you can’t remember.
All you think is death, and you welcome it. It’s obviously your time. This is how your end is supposed to be. Open your arms and embrace it.
Darkness comes again.
“Hey…Heyyyy! Hey!”
Your eyes open, you’re still drifting, but you know your end is coming soon. So who the hell is that?
“What *are you doing floating out here?” You’re still confused. All you remember is the days of floating, but you still can’t recall how you got here. You’re in the middle of the ocean, you and another. “Why are you out here? Where did you come from?”
Lie. Do anything to get her on her way.
“The beach. That’s where I came from.” You think. At least that’s a feasible explanation. It makes the most sense in your current situation.
“The beach?” She sounds skeptical. “You came from the beach?”
Believe in your lie.
“Yeah, I just started floating from the beach.” The absurd things emanating from your mind come out of your mouth. “I was walking out of my hut, after a long night’s sleep. I spent the previous day surfing, and I thought to myself,” come on! Sell it! “’You never float anymore.’ When I was a child growing up, I used to spend days floating, just to see how far I could go.” Yeah! That childhood reference was gold! “Now I’m just floating. I think I’ll start heading back soon.” Perhaps that’s all she needs to hear. Now go! Leave him to die. Oh man, is she getting closer?
“Heading back? You don’t say…” Oh fuck! You slipped up.
“Uh yeah, I think I’ve gone far enough. Time to head back.” More like time for her to head back. All you want is for her to leave.
“So, how long have you been out here?” OH NO! Please, why won’t you leave him to die? He’s begging you, no more questions.
“Well, how long have you been swimming?” Nice! Now you’ve got her. “Leave”, you say to yourself, “LEAVE!”
“How do you know if we left from the same place?” Now she’s got you! Don’t break you weak fuck.
“Well, then...Where did you come from?” Answer and leave.
“Pattaya. I’m swimming to Surat Thani.” Oh shit. Think. Pattaya. Surat Thani. Pattaya. Surat Thani. Thani. Thai. “THAILAND!” you blurt out.
Oh Christ, now you’ve blown it. Well done, you big dumbshit.
“I knew it! I could hear it in your voice! You didn’t float out here, right?” She has you. No need to lie anymore. Not like you were any good at it.
Things are slowly coming back to you. You’re in Thailand. Why?
“How far are we?” You try to change the subject. Good.
“Well, I’ve been swimming for about 8 hours now. So I’d say 120 kilometers out in the…”
“Gulf of Thailand. Thanks, I’ve gathered.” Embarrassing, yet relieving. But that still doesn’t answer how you got there. “What reason do you have to swim across the damn gulf?” She’s a swimmer, or better yet, a triathlete.
“What? I can’t go swimming unless I have a reason? I just feel like swimming the gulf once in a while. I’ve done it for years. Why does it matter to you?”
You reply, “I’m not saying that you can’t go swimming without any reason. I just find it odd that we happen to bump into each other like this.”
You can feel her climbing aboard, now both of you are floating on this hunk of something.
“Where did you come from? Really.” You can’t escape her questions. Tell her the truth. Trust. There’s no one else you can count on out here. She’s just one person. Tell her you’ve been here for days, and have given up all hope.
“I don’t remember.” The truth feels good.
Then, like a horrible rage of terror mixed in with the emotions that tag along with it, your memories come back in a mash of joy, hurt, desperation, loneliness, avoidance, dependency, and finally that feeling you get when you’ve lost your love.
You start to spill.
“There was a person. My friend. The woman that I love…or is it loved?” You aren’t sure. “She left our home and came here to find herself. I couldn’t take it. I had to come and see her. I wrote her telling her that I was coming. She sent me a message to meet at the Grand Royal Palace in Bangkok. That was last week, I think. Well, she didn’t show. I realized that it was because I didn’t give her enough time or space. I went to different hubs around the region, and no luck. So I decided to give up and give her the largest amount of space anyone can give. And the only way one can do that is through death. The ultimate space.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
Strength, courage, and the fear.
It all comes back...
You never really understand a situation like flying a single engine airplane into the Gulf of Thailand until you’re actually doing it.
There’s fear unlike any other. It’s this fear that freezes you and forces you to think. What or whom do you think about when you know you’re going to die?
Your last day at the job,
The brave question,
Your friendship,
The breakdown,
The space,
Her leaving,
Your letter,
Your travel,
Your sadness,
Her loss,
Your end.
The image is still fresh. The smile, and her eyes. The squinty face that exuded happiness…or so you thought.
And at impact, the one person that you loved the most is in your mind. This moment had frozen in eternity. Too bad it was that love for the same person that drove you to do this.
You can actually feel her eyes widen as you speak. Fear and confusion, you know those feelings well.
“When I came out here, I never expected to survive. I expected to die. When I couldn’t do that, I gave up again and waited for death again.”
“You came out here to die?” It sounds morbidly beautiful. Her words are gentle and sympathetic. NO! She has to leave. Don’t let her help you.
“Yes, I did! I wanted to give it up and lose it all.” You never thought you’d have to explain your own suicide(s). “And it seems I can’t even do that right.”
What’s that? Her hand taking yours. You hear sobbing, and know that if you could see her, her eyes would be red and puffy.
“Why? Why would you do something like that?” In truth, you don’t really know. It just seems like the only option.
“I did this to cause pain. To someone. Anyone. Her. I felt deserted. Unloved. Alone. So why would anyone care about whether or not I lived or died?” Your explanation is a paradox.
“That doesn’t make any sense. There’s so much to live for. I mean, just because you can’t have your love anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have that love in yourself. Let that love live, so hopefully, one day, that love can help you become a better person. Let the memory of her love help you. She wouldn’t want you to end up this way. She probably still loves you, but it’s obvious that she needs more time and more space. Perhaps it was a mistake coming to Thailand.”
She’s right. Sweet lord, where was she when you rented the airplane? “You really mean that, don’t you?” Her hand tightens around yours.
“Listen to me. Let’s get off of this wreckage. Obviously, God didn’t intend on you dying out here. If She had, you wouldn’t be here, talking to me.” Her words are the truth.
“We’re in the middle of the fucking gulf! Where could we go?”
“Ko Tao. It’s an island about 30 kilos from here. It’s a safety place for me if I ever need to stop during this swim. If we leave now, we’ll get there by sunrise.” She’s in the water now.
Go with her. It makes more sense than staying here.
“Just let go of that remaining piece of your past, and swim with me, please.” Listen to her plead. She speaks the truth.
The sun is coming up. The water is still warm. You feel baptized by the waves slowly cresting over you. You can see a beach; it’s not that far now.
“We’re almost there.” This is the first time you’ve actually seen her. The light reflecting from the water illuminates her face.
That tanned skin. Her curly hair. Her eyes, such a beautiful green.
As you wash up ashore, the climbing sun is keeping you warm. She gets up and you ask for water. Moments later, she comes back with a bottle of fresh, clean, safe water. She holds your face as you drink savagely from her.
The water is like a new sense of life. There is definitely something to live for. You’re convinced that there will always be someone that cares about you. But more important than that, your love saved you. The desire and love of life was what rescued you.
“Thank you. Thank you for saving my life. But most of all thank you for showing me that there’s a reason for living. If not for someone else, then definitely for myself.” This feeling is unlike any other you’ve ever felt. You feel alive. You feel whole. You feel good about everything. “I can’t believe it. Here I thought my love was the reason for dying when in reality…”
“Your love was the reason for living.”
Her hand is holding my face. So small, so fragile.
“What's her name?” She asks.
“Her name is Emily.”
