Messages in a bottle

I live on a desserted island in the middle of an endless ocean. Like most who've ever been marooned, I did little in the way of preparation before I landed here, in total isolation. It's hard to say how long I've been here. Initially, I kept track of the days, but now I find the pursuit futile. As it should happen, isolation is only healthy for most people in small doses.
When time transforms from a scarce resource into a tormentor, one must be crafty. Once you've figured out how to manage the elements, keeping your mind from devouring itself becomes the most important survival skill. I started by exploring the island. What I was looking for, I am not sure, but once I found the expansive, greasy planes of graphite, inspiration struck. The next trick was to learn to make paper, which proved to be challenging, but doable, thanks to some rather fibrous flora I gathered in the jungle. I'd concern myself with finding a bottle later, but for now my goal was to write.