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Day 1: Stranded… would be the appropriate word to describe my situation. Lonely, also. But I've only been here for a couple of long, unpleasant hours. On this little, bright orange raft. Which I’m guessing is going to be my home for the next couple of hours or days. Though how would that be possible, days, going on without any sighting of my little raft. Yes, the idea is once you are stranded in the middle of the ocean, you'll be there for weeks, or months at a time! But there are movies and then there's reality. And I would hope this is a reality, plus Tom Hanks gets saved at the end. Though, if this wasn’t real, that would also be just fine. The cruise wasn't that far off from the dock I'm sure, 45 minutes at max, I'm guessing. Though I am a man sitting on a raft, in the middle of the ocean. Sane isn't the word I would use to describe myself... I can't believe something like this would ever happen, we’ve been saving for this trip for months now, Morgan and I. Now I don't even know where Morgan is! Should could be dead for all I know! She…She could. I doubt she is, I'm sure she could fend for hers... Will... I ever see her again? No... She’s ok, I can't worry about her, not right now. These moments I'm wasting writing in this little journal could have been put forth to my mission, get me home! I can't waste any time!
Day 2: Good morning, I'm still here. Just like I wished... I spent most of the darn night trying to find something, a light, a bird... a log, something! But yet I still find nothing. Even better, I fell asleep in the middle of it all. Leaving me a-drift in any direction! I'm actually starting to think I'm going to be stuck here. You know, I need to set my mind straight, maybe there's food? There should be, right? Can of beans, sardines, I’ll really eat anything, anything to cure this dying feeling of hunger in me. Let us see...
Good news and bad news. We have found some cans of soft, disgusting peaches in a little compartment, the same compartment I found this journal, guess they thought I would need this. Also, I found several tin cans of fresh water. Which still yet amazes me that they expect I will need dozens of cans of water in a raft specifically made to be surrounded by just that! Water! At the moment water is the least of my worries! Wasting so much space on useless cylinders when they could have provided something to purify the water around me. I question people sometimes, well... recently I've been questioning them quite frequently lately... what would they do in my position? Anyway, before this sun gets low I want to take a try at getting somewhere, wish me luck.
Day 5: I’ve been thinking, I haven't left any trace to who I am in this journal. And If I die on this raft I want someone to know I'm gone. So my name’s Marshall, before this I used to work in a Cubicle for a company that sells car-mats. But currently, I'm unemployed. I'm also married to a beautiful woman, Morgan. Recently married actually, 2 years. But still hard nonetheless. Kids? No, I think we're fine. Well, that's mostly me, but I think Morgans been leaving hints to wanting kids, but I try to put those thoughts to sleep as fast as I can. But at the moment kids don't seem so bad, If we had kids would I be here? In a raft?
Day 7: Good day, just threw up after eating all those freak’in canned peaches. Fluids of soft peach color mixing with the dark blue surrounding me, disgusting. Thought I saw a flash from something, nearby boat maybe? Though if it was it would be long out of reach, but really could be anything else, I’m gonna see If I can move towards that direction, see how it goes. Woke up with a full-fledged beard this morning, even though it's been slowly growing on my pale, dry skin for the last couple days I didn’t think It was going to be this... huge. Wonder what Morgan would think? Maybe she’ll find it Hot? If that's the case I'm keeping it. At the moment I don't have any other choice
Day ?: Why. WHY! Why me?... The last thing I remember was me moving towards that flash mentioned earlier. Then there was a storm, as expected. I had a feeling earlier that a classic storm in the middle of the ocean was inevitable. It was, it was, like God's power was put in front of me. The waves were, incredible, yet I felt like once, that show of power fell on my frail raft, death was going to welcome me, take me with. And once it did fall, I was ready to grab death by the hand and let it take me. But here I am. Still in the middle of nowhere, but mysteriously my raft was pierced by a rock fairly the size of a king size bed, which the raft is still connected too. The last thing I remember was that wave crashing down on me, being rushed with water. And weird enough I woke up with my journal in my hand, and a simple ballpoint pen attached to the book by a simple piece of cloth. I'm no priest, but I would say that's a sign.
 Do days even matter anymore?: I’m dying on the inside. Both physically and emotionally. More physically than emotionally. I’ve never looked so, weak. I don’t think these peaches are giving me everything I need, Plus I’m running low on supplies. Sooner or later I’ll actually have to catch food, and the only thing on the menu of the ocean is... Fish. Which If I haven't said before I hate. At the moment I'm trying to reference to previous stranded movies I’ve seen with Morgan. Who would have thought that date night sitting around on the couch would come to some use?! I could use a couch on this rock. I remember watching this movie, Cast along? Cast Away? Casserole? One of those, but Tom Hanks had a volleyball, he named it Willson. Maybe I should have a little friend. Lately, I would do anything to have a conversation with anyone, about anything! Something about Monday night football, or a new movie. Just... something.
Can't remember: Well look at my luck, Even though I haven't had much, a little rock just chipped off this big rock I currently live on! This could be my Willson! But what to name it though, I guess I can fit “ Name rock” somewhere in my very busy schedule.
Too long: You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wrote earlier, “If I had kids would I be here?” I decided to name the rock Tonya, I thought it was pretty. I’ve had a lot of time to think about my past decisions and some future ones. I thought, If I ever had a girl, Tonya would be a cute name. So I guess If I ever have a girl I'll be naming her after a rock. Can't wait to explain that one. (Sigh) I guess this is all thanks to Morgan. Last night I had a dream about Morgan, us just sitting around. Watching some TV show, doing what we usually do on Sundays. But now something as regular as just watching the 5 o’clock news seems like a luxury when you spend weeks at a time on a wet rock, waiting for your next meal to fly out from the never solid floor below you. I don't know how long I can do this anymore, suddenly not living seems better than pushing myself to go on the next day.
Wait... Did you hear that, well obviously you can’t but, that sound? It has to be something. But yet I still don't see anything?... “NO, FINALLY!” I turn around once more and like magic a massive boat, cargo boat, appears! A little strange but at the moment I'm not complaining... I’m crying tears of joy! It’s weird I'm not feeling the tears going down my face, must be my skin is so crippled from exposure to the broiling sun's heat. “OVER HERE! OVER HERE” I shout as loud as I can, even though my voice is far from audible. From out of nowhere I grab a flare gun... What?... Doesn't matter. The blinding red flare goes up higher and higher every second. Notice it please, notice it please, I think repeatedly. Then the most roaring blow of acknowledgment from the massive boat becomes the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Lights from the boats deck suddenly turn on, sending a bright light towards my direction. Little boats then start shooting my way, two, three, four of them come! Just for me?
“Marshall Abrams! We are here to save you!” Well duh, I think to myself. But how did my name? The man grabs my frail body and pushes me into the small boat, a little harsh I think, but it is accepted as I'm trying to get off that god damn rock as fast as possible. The man quickly stops assisting me and rushes to the boat controls. Quickly jerks the key into the slot, jimmys the key back and forth until the engine finally roars, the man positions the boat straight towards the cargo mammoth and runs the mini boat towards the mothership. “Almost there!” the man shouts, the lights coming off the boat get brighter for every meter we get closer, eventually we get so close I can barely see anything other than white and the man's bright orange jacket. “Were here” The man says in a soft tone as if he's been awaiting the arrival also…
Day 37: My head instantly jerks back, hitting something solid, something much like a rock. As soon as wake I feel pain shooting from my leg upward. I lift my head up only to see an injured leg spewing a trail of blood, an orange raft, and a lonely small rock. It takes me awhile to decipher what is going on. Then a reality hits me... I instantly thrust my hands toward my face. Trying to contain my tears, but, there was no need. The emotions instantly come through, sadness, anger… everything. My thoughts of rescue... only hallucinations from lack of blood. “How… HOW! HELP! He... help”. The pain still shooting, waves still crashing against the rock, the sound is somewhat soothing. I can feel the blood slowly flowing out of me, every drip, taking me further and further from sanity.
Last day: I can no longer feel the pain, I want to say that's a good thing, but if I know anything... It’s not. I don’t even know how I even have the energy to write. I haven't moved my body since I woke up. For all I know I am one with this rock. I honestly can’t move on. Prayers don't mean anything at the moment. I don’t want to be stuck here anymore. If I don't do anything I'll just be sitting here suffering. I want to end it now... I'm sorry, I can't hold back these tears. I can’t stand this anymore. I'm sorry, Morgan, Tonya, I'm sorry. Please forgive me, but my life is heading nowhere. But I think that I and death have a date, that was long overdue. And to think this all started because the boat's engines caught fire, causing the boat to slowly sink. Who would have thought?
Well… maybe Morgan is already where I'm going. Though I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Hopefully, someone will read this... Hopefully, someone will remember Marshall Abrams. I'm going to roll of this rock, If I even can, this ocean should accept me and take me to the floor. A peaceful death I hope, the less pain the better…
It’s time... To say goodbye, to Morgan, to my life, to all I’ve built up too.
But I ask one thing before I do. Please...
Remember me...
Marshall Abrams.

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