He has the luxury of casting his thoughts outwards, towards the great unknown of possibility, towards a sparkling future, or a lovely unclaimed piece of Eden….and yet.
And yet he chooses to live with his head underwater.
This is not a noble description.
He is a man constantly surfacing just enough to catch a breath, before sinking once again below the waves. He is always on the brink of being overwhelmed. In his state, he cannot save himself, let alone his crewmates, or his ship.
He won’t find a chance to live, even when that chance is within arm’s reach. Rather, he fixates on everything else around him as if they were the reason his lungs were burning. Everything is to blame, except the obvious…
…that true living was always within reach. His drowning crew mates. Plural. They see it, and curse his name for it.
Yet he hears not a sound in a storm of his own making.
To put it simply: this man is a twat.