Probable? I don't think so.

I finally decided I should probably get over my fear, since nothing bad has happened yet, and try to enter the forest. I took my first steps in earlier today, and the first thing I noticed is that the trees probably aren't regular trees. They seem to be made of glass, or ceramic. Something hard and glossy-glazed. They also hum. Not like, a person humming, but when I put my ear close I could hear a quiet hum like a machine, or like crystal vibrating, and it sounded like Vivaldi, but it probably wasn't; more likely Tchaikovsky.

Also, on the beach, I found another box of hamburgers. The odds of this recurring have become most probable--it's been happening for days now. But this time, there was a note on top. I probably read it wrong, because it had been raining earlier and the ink had bled, but it probably said something like, "Don't worry about sunny days."

But that probably doesn't make much sense.

There's probably an explanation

I have discovered that shoes probably can't be tied on this island. I keep tying my shoes, and the moment I look away, I trip over a shoelace. I don't think it's my imagination, the bruises on my chin and palms are probably good evidence of that.

You probably think that's weird. Well, I'm past that. This is probably the craziest place I've ever been.

Here's another thing you'll probably be interested in. I still haven't gone into the forest - too scared - but I have tried to go around the island, and the moment I'm away from the beach where I woke up and around a bend of trees, there is the beach again, immediately ahead. At first I figured I was probably losing it, that they were just very similar, so I marked one of the beaches, drove a stick into the sand. Lo and behold, coming around the next bend, there was the stick, standing tall.

It's probably an optical illusion, the island must be way smaller than it looks, but I don't know. It feels huge.

You're probably wondering...

You're probably wondering who I am. What my deal is.

I'm not sure who I am.

It's probably amnesia, but ever since I woke up on the island, I can't really remember anything except the most abstract of concepts. I understand that I probably have a home, and that the people who are probably there are probably missing me. I'm probably a person.

But what are the qualifiers? I've probably described enough about the forest and the rocky island and my surroundings that you probably think I've got a handle on things, but it's all just words. I remember the concept of forest, and the concept of island, the concept of rock. I remember the concept of Maine as a place, but it could probably be anywhere.

Everything looks shades of gray. Everything weighs like empty.

I'm probably just going crazy.

It's probably nothing.

Well, I was glad to have food, but it was hard to find any shelter when I tried to sleep. And it rained. And it was freezing. I'll probably end up dying of exposure.

It's probably nothing, but last night when I was curled up under a couple logs, trying to stay dry and sharing body-heat with some millipedes (they were probably millipedes, but maybe not), I saw a flickering light coming from the edge of the forest.

It might have been a ghost, but it probably wasn't. It looked more like a lamp, yellow and fulgurating strong, then weak. It made me remember the lamp that sat on the endtable near my bed when I was a child, how I'd roll down the shades and pretend I was in the belly of a sailing ship.

I miss home.

It probably misses me too.