“I’m lost. I’m completely and utterly lost. What am I doing here? I woke up this morning, not from sleep, but from an existential daydream. In my head, nothing matters. In this world, nothing matters. Nothing matters. Not this orange sunset, not the damp, clayish sand between my toes, not the turquoise ocean cascading down on my knees.
Why am I here again? Because of a stupid vacation? I do the same thing every summer; it’s time for a change. I’m in a rut, and I need excitement. But first, I need a reason to pursue it. Just because I know what I want, doesn’t mean I know how to get it, or for that matter, even have the motivation to strive for it. I want college, I want to be a journalist, I want to experience new cultures, I want to live in the moment. To live in the moment would be a dream. I just need to figure out how to create the opportunities to reach my goals.
For now, I’m stuck on this beach; this stunning, sweltering, summery beach. A salty breeze blows my curls behind me, the sun bores into my skin. I have lived in this moment before, and now I look to the future. I pray that the moments ahead will be exotic, that they will be unfamiliar and new. I pray that the moments ahead are worth living in.”
Standing on a beach on the other side of the world, he realizes that he is stuck too. He needs to find change; and this bottle, this letter, this writer, led him to motivation. He feels eternally grateful. He pulls out a pen, flips the crusty and worn paper over, and writes. He writes for hours about everything, anything. He gets lost in a world he loves, and unknowingly finds meaning in his seemingly monotonous life.
He gently folds the paper back up, and slides it forlornly into the bottle. He kisses the bottle as a prayer, wishing for it to find it’s owner once again. He throws it into the mysterious, unending waters, and watches the current carry it elsewhere. He turns away from the letter, from the beach, from the life he thought he wanted. He’s never looked back.