Although my writing mainly consists of abstract, non-linear storytelling, the works I chose to submit were more grounded than usual. These works were primarily inspired by the current political climate in our nation, which prompted me to start looking into the history of exploitation in the Western hemisphere. There are still many people who are unable to speak their perspective and eventually have their story swallowed by other, more favored narratives of the colonial past. Through these short stories, I tried to focus on the internal struggles amidst the external. Everything that has the potential to affect the world, will have many different effects on different people. The more we look at things from a purely broad perspective, the more of these effects will be overlooked.
Hello there again. It will likely have been some time since I have last looked at these notes, however many I choose to do. Either that, or perhaps I have never mustered up the courage to be able to open up such a surely painful memory, however I still feel the need to recount the details of the past few days. The airplane I was in crashed here, no other survivors. I make that to sound dramatic, but there were only four of us in the plane. I regret to say I don’t remember their names, but this young man said he was a lawyer and a woman about my age, I believe she was a teacher. That’s all I will mention from the way here, the rest I’m sure I would remember. At some point, I will revisit this. I may be wondering why I began writing in the first place, so I’ll refresh my sentiments. I’m scared to forget. I have been looking into “fake memories” for some time now and I have had personal experiences with them. I own a video camera at home (I hope I haven’t thrown it out by now!) and I have gotten into the habit of recording things. My kids...my wife...my work (shhh!). Mind you, they are all optimistic things that I would like to remember. I record something of significance and perhaps years later I look back on it to see that the way I remember it was not how it truly was, and this idea terrifies me. Now I am stuck on this island, and there will be no recordings of me here unless I make them myself. The records we make, those are the reality. At least, they are meant to be. I am not a researcher, by any means. And I don’t quite intend on becoming one. It's been about four days since I landed here (landed?), but I am not alone. There is a small group of indigenous people here, I am not an expert in ethnicity or language but I can tell I will have a difficult time communicating with them, they don’t appear to have seen me yet, nor have they likely ever seen anyone such as myself but I will attempt to make contact in the near future.
I should make a greater effort to make these entries a daily activity, as a result I feel the need to cover the last few days for you. They know I’m here now, they have seen me and they don’t appear to be hostile, though perhaps not as open as I hoped. I am hesitant to say we “spoke” but I have made attempts to communicate. Regrettably they are not as interesting as I might have imagined. There is this one individual among them in particular, however, who stands out. I’ve never quite seen anyone like her. It feels like there is something pulling me towards her, as though she has to be the one to understand me. I wonder if the way she looks at me reveals anything, I would hope so. ‘.;;’;,’;’.’;.’;.’ Sorry, it's difficult to erase things on here, hopefully I will be able to read all of this later. I just realized I had already mentioned my wife in the previous entry and I’m already expressing some distasteful flirtations with immoral thoughts. To be perfectly honest my wife and I haven’t been getting along as of late. By that I mean the last few years. I’m only human, I have these thoughts. Whatever, I don’t intend on showing this to anyone once I get off this island, not even her. I may burn this later, actually, should I choose to even take it with me. It's not like the natives would take anything from it if I left it behind. The greatest irony would be to have it recovered following my death.
Apologies for being so negative in the last entry. You should really get into the habit of writing in here more often. I can’t believe I lost (“lost”) this notebook for as long as I did, but understandably your pencils have been in short supply and your eraser is gone for good. She doesn’t care for me, even though we can’t speak to each other she refuses to even turn her head and that kills me. She at least owes me that. Think of me what you like, I don’t care. I am writing this so that I can tell what is going on. This is a good way for you to look back on the past. I am not a researcher, but I knew that. I have never done this before so I would like to record everything that happens here.
I realize I haven’t been keeping up with this notebook. I was right, I did lose my eraser, and now I don’t have anything to alter these entries with besides offensively obvious scribbles. It was probably a good thing that I lost it, otherwise I would be trying to change the past at every chance I got. Tainting what really happened. I want to apologize for ‘’;;,’;.’-’;.’- deceiving you, there really were no indigenous people here, it was me alone on the island the whole time. I hope this doesn’t damage the trust between us, you’ll still believe me?
Hey, it’s me again. You had a pretty hard time today. Your shelter fell apart in the storm and your foods are allllll over the floor. You weren’t able to g;’t h.’;r t’; t.’;lk t,; y.,’;’ .’g.’,;’n. I checked my mailbox, no letters. You told her to write you a letter every day while you were gone, didn’t you tell her that? Just like in the movies she liked so much. She is supposed to sit by her mailbox and open my letters right then and there because she can’t wait and she smiles down to my words of love and tells everyone how thoughtful I am for writing back even though it's a lot harder for me than it is for her. You thought of how much your little girl looks up to her, even though you gave her everything. It's getting past that time that she needs a father, you should be there but she’s pushing me away and I can’t do anything about it. THERE IS NO WAY OFF THIS DAMN ISLAND! You spent your last night trying to remember your dreams but you realized you might forget them and try to remember them later but they might be fake so it's better not to since you can’t write them down since you are writing in here every day and there is no room or time, you are VERY busy. And you threw your last pencil into the ocean after this entry, you incompetent *’;.,’;.’*;;,’%#!. I apologize for swearing.
The most significant liar will be rested today. He will leave the island.