An island birthed by a volcanic eruption in the ocean is like how my mother pushed me out of the womb. According to my mother, I was born one week late because I was being such a baby when it comes to living. I am so unprepared in life that it took me a long time to learn certain skills. Every time I struggled, I would easily cry from the fear of failure because superiors, including my family would yell at me, judge me, or punish me for not obeying their expectations/rules. If I paint or color outside the line, my crayons or paintbrush will be taken away. As I get older, I suck it up and persevere to every level. No complaints. No excuses.
After 19 years of education, I realized school is systematic as prison, which led to structured routine in adulthood. I had to wake up at between 6 am and 7 am to eat breakfast, go to class at 8 am to learn from textbooks and lectures, have a 15-minute recess break, eat a crappy lunch, go back to class, and go home to do homework on weekdays, except holidays. After graduation, it’s time to work 9-5 or overtime to buy a house, a car, pay bills and do taxes in order to survive. There is less time to follow your dreams. After turning 65, it’s time to retire as health is declining. Either take action or regret it.
I do not want to live this robotic lifestyle till I die. Therefore, I want to form my island. An island that gives me the sovereignty to set my rules, to choose anyone to live in my community, to build a house instead of renting a hut for $1,000 per month, to grow fresh food and access to fresh water without corporate companies poisoning us with chemicals, to pass knowledge to each other and accepting differences, and to genuinely help each other as a career without expecting favors. Whoever attempts to take over my island (Colonialists and corporate business people) are considered prisoners.