Im a fellow torontonian! Hello 
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Id probably choose the bear.
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And it floats.
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Iām not throwing my rbc in the water to test thisā¦
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EDIT: Yes this bizarre post is the result of an undergrad who studies every waking minute of the semester suddenly being presented with the free time of a summer break. Iām sure Iāll find something more productive to do tomorrow.
Picture this: youāre on the island.
Assuming you have food/water, the days start to blur together. Wake up in the sand, look out at the infinite and unforgiving horizon, stay in the shade to avoid melanoma, eat, go to sleep. Repeat. Repeat.
To try and escape, you will start spending a lot of time inside your own mind, imagining going different places. Seeing new things. Imagine your ideal house. Maybe what it would be like to have a Lamborghini.
Maybe your visualization gets so good that you can eventually sit for hours at a time, and go to the opera, followed by a white tie meal and a walk in the rose garden, all inside your mind.
Every human interaction that you will ever have has already happened, so youāll probably start imagining people to talk to. Maybe youāll name them and have multi part debates. Thereās certainly a lot to talk about!
In this micro environment, the smallest things become massive parts of your world. Does that one rock look better here, or over there? How long before the third coconut on the left falls?
All of these things will happen as your mind desperately casts about for some sort of variation that will allow you to hold onto your sanity.
It is well documented that hopeless repetition will inevitably grind away at your grip on reality, and logical reasoning capabilities. How are you going to prevent yourself from dying as a gibbering lunatic?
Well, you can write in the sand. Maybe come up with new types of math? I sure hope you remeber where you left off in your educationā¦
Funny to think that at this point youād give a kidney for a math textbook. Or any book.
Maybe you can build something out of leaves?
What other tools do you have at your disposal in the struggle to protect the one thing you truly own: your consciousness? You can feel your soul getting sucked out of your pores as you look at the infinite horizon thatās the same. Every. Single. Day. Itās sheer size constantly beats you down.
MAYBE, you can take out that yoyo you brought. If you have a string, bearing and pad supply, you can throw everyday.
As funny as it sounds, this one object can completely change your existence, allowing you to embark on a journey of mastery. The topological combinations of string formations are functionally infinite. You will never run out of new tricks to make. With this yoyo between you hands, the monotony of your world has vanished. Each morning when you wake up in the sand, you can reach over for your yoyo, and improve your skills, and thus YOURSELF, a little more.
Much like the few yoyoers that have crossed into the realm of art, you can build your ability to express yourself as you gain skill.
You can gain such proficiency that as soon as you think of a movement, you can perform it with the yoyo, not even needing to take time to practice and create a new trick. You can create beautiful new patterns, shapes and transitions like breathing.
You no longer think of ācombosā and āelementsā. Or even horizontal and vertical tricks. You have moved beyond these ideas, expanding into movements styles that arenāt even a gleam in Mir Kimās eye. The yoyo instantly moves according to your thoughts, and it is an extension of your body. Just as you never wonder how youāre going to bend your elbow, or pick up a stick, you now never have to think about how youāre going to do a smooth flow element, or a blisteringly fast interlude. Or an undulating slack element that looks like the sea conditions this morning.
You imagine what visual impression you want to create, and the elements are created subconsciously.
While you surpassed every other yoyoer years ago, thatās not what matters. You donāt even realize it. What matters is the fact that you have carried one of the few behaviors that separates humans from the animals, even to this desolate spot. You are creating art, and mastering a skill for itās own sake.
You can shake your fist in defiance at the soul sucking and uncaring horizon, because you have your own world that you are master of: the string and yoyo.
Now, when you DO pass away, it will be with dignity, and sanity. And when you meet your maker, you can look him in the eyes, in full control of yourself and your mind, knowing that the art you created in this dismal pit is a testament to human resilience.
THE MORAL OF THE STORY:
No matter how active your are in the boomer yoyo club today, choose a bloody yoyo that can do horizontal tricks.
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There is one thing at least a few of the responders in this thread didnāt consider.>
He said you are stuck on an island for ever and everā¦
But he āneverā said a thing about the island having no structures to stay inā¦ no clean water to drinkā¦
He Never said you were alone on the island. He never said there wasnāt an In-n-out on the island.
He never said there wasnāt a Pizza place that delivers.
He just said āif you were stuck on an Island.
Being āstuckā on an Island just means you canāt leave for whatever reason.
Funny stuff
So the island could be Manhattan. Or Honshu.
I am from Sardinia (Italy), which is an Island, then randomly I decided to move TO ANOTHER ISLAND (UK), I do feel stuck on my toxic behaviour 
I am feeling your post a lot!
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So the tragedy to the movie Cast Away was a Yoyo and Pack of Strings in the box he didnt open?
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I would have a titanium yoyo so then I can fight off wild animals 
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Iād take my Metavity, so I can start fires.
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