Flames under water

I have seen bright flames under water.

They have a glimmering glow. They're warm -- they feel warm where water is the coldest. I have seen them. I've been touched by them. I had wanted to. I was lost, lonely and freezing. Once or twice I gave in. I put aside the fear of unknown and let go. I lent myself to the warmth -- the sensation that everything will be okay in the end. I didn't know if they will, but I had no other choice but to believe. It was either that or the cold waves of water that would have drowned what was left of me.

The second time I attempted this, admittedly, I was putting myself in the situation experimentally. I hadn't understood what happened the first time. I just know something about the flame put a permanent stamp on me. When I got to the shore, I was exhausted and half-unconscious. I shouldn't have survived the cold waves of the sea, but somehow they had washed me back to the shore and I had survived. Anyone in their right mind would take that and walk away, but something was different. I was then cold, shivering and desparate, out on the shore. The flame had stripped me of my normal senses. I needed it. I was addicted. A while later, I attempted the second time. I had recovered, but I needed to try it again. I needed to. No rational reason why. I needed to understand the flame, and to make it mine.

As I mentioned, I'm here, shipwrecked on an island.

The second incident went better than the first. I couldn't find the flame in the same spot I had found it the first time, but after some search, I happened upon a place in the sea I felt to be familiar. There appeared to be nothing there at first, but then I was engulfed in them.

When I call this phenomena "flames", it is because I haven't found a better word for describing them. To clarify, they share some physical properties: the heat, the unpredictability and the shimmer -- the feeling of being in presence of something magical. But some properties are quite different. It doesn't burn. At least, it doesn't burn then and there. The feeling instead is of pleasure. Of this feeling, I will speak in depth later.

After the second attempt I set sail back to the shore. I was prepared for the cold waves. Somewhere along the way an unexpected storm crushed my boat to pieces. It washed me back to the same shore, this time stranded forever without a boat to go anywhere else. For the longest time I would imagine that the storm had a direct link, even caused by, the flame. It took years to accept that two events happening within such short time interval need not be cause and effect. Took years to accept that the two were very independent events. The fear had found its due place, and perhaps rightfully so. The next time I visited the flames in the same spot was on a raft a decade later. This time, I couldn't get very close. This time, the flames felt as if they were ready to burn in a very literal sense of the word.

I am a pirate without a boat, sitting on an island, with a lot on my mind that I can't unload on you right away. For one thing, you haven't seen what I've seen, and you may be starting to get a sense of detachment from my story. After all, who cares about a pirate and strange-sounding tales of flames under the sea-water...

If you've ever been lost in your life, looking desparately for something you couldn't quite identify, please stay with me. I admit I am busy. I'm trying to build a boat and get back to my world, you see. But I have tales to tell. I can't tell them quickly. If I do, you wouldn't understand -- trust me, the subtleties are way too important. You need to stick with me. At least, listen to the next few words I say...