I am John Locke
I'm not a box salesman but I might as well be.
My back's not shattered but I feel paralyzed.
My father never pushed me out a window but he broke me just the same.
I've never gone on a walkabout but I wander aimlessly.
I've wasted most of my life.
I crashed on this Island Earth and it's scary and I find it a miracle.
I sit in the rain, smiling.
I seek the Hatch though I don't know what it will look like when I find it. I carry dynamite always - just in case.
I push the button. I'm not sure what it's for or whether it's important. It's certainly boring. I press it again.
I have faith and I'm usually wrong but it's all I've got.
I follow whims, I wish and call it revelation.
I throw knives into the backs of strangers because of my ego, and because I think it's the right thing to do.
I murder bunnies for bar-b-que, feed live grenades to psychics.
I revisit the past and make myself into something I'm not.
I try to convince my friends we can go back, that we are all special, but they don't believe me. I give my life for them though they don't require it. I just want us all to be okay.
I don't understand.