Probably a few hours after the crash

            Fuck, fuck, fuck. Something happened there. It isn’t possible for it to just crash. I didn’t do anything wrong. I am all alone. Fuck. I didn’t have to do this. Why did I do this? It was horrible; the sound was just to horrifying. The crash, oh my god. Fuck. I can’t even think. And he said I shouldn’t do it. He said so. He fucking said it’s too dangerous without him. Fuck I’m stupid. Oh my god. What am I going to do now? I cannot survive here alone. What can I eat? Where will I sleep? Oh my god. I am dead. I will be dead. I am going to die. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Day 1 after the crash

            I fell asleep with the pen in my hand. I was overwhelmed with adrenaline, pumped up like a balloon waiting to pop. I really couldn’t hear anything but my thoughts of dying alone on a stupid fucking island because of one god dammed mistake.

It felt like I fell for an eternity. I just saw something green passing every two seconds. I couldn’t see anything else. There was a speck of green and everything blue, except for the cockpit. My heart was racing harder that I would imagine possible. It was like having an everlasting nightmare, nothing made sense, the green passing me again and again. I felt that horrible tremor that takes hold of you when the back of your head crashes on the hard asphalt as you fall of your bike. That small bike that you thought wouldn’t do you any harm. And than I started to see colored spots that multiplied a thousand times over with every passing second. After which I didn’t see a thing, I didn’t hear a thing, I didn’t feel a thing. I started to feel water filling my lungs, I opened my eyes and saw that I was emerged in water. I didn’t have time to think, I grabbed the closest thing that I could get, took a deep breath, and started swimming through the water. I didn’t know which way to go, I just headed upwards. I was so frightened and disoriented that I wished I would die there and than. The fast pace of everything around was mind-blowing. I was afraid of the sharks, I was afraid of the water, I was afraid of everything that surrounded me. So I swam as hard as I could. I finally got to the shore.

I don’t know what I am going to eat or drink. I have no idea how I am going to survive.

 

Day 7 after the crash

            I am going to die here. I managed to grab this useless bag with me. Some crackers, some biscuits, my pen and notebook, and a stupid pair of jeans. I tried to eat leaves but I am afraid that they might be poison or something. I wouldn’t want to die of starvation, as if it’s the only thing that can kill me here. I am getting weaker by the day. I tried to do all those things that I saw in movies or on TV. But it’s worthless, I’m no survivor. I roamed the island to find somebody the first few days, that is useless too. I tried hunting and fishing, again useless. Nothing works. I lit a fire with the matches I had in my jeans, but those won’t last too much. Hopefully something or someone would see the fire. What am I talking, nobody could find me, I am stranded in the middle of the Atlantic. I’m probably thousands of miles away from any continent. I can’t believe I am actually going to die like this. I had my dreams, a future.

I went alone in Portugal. No one will no I’m missing. But wait, the flying instructor knows. I still have a chance, I’m not going to die here. He will find me, and rescue me.