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The 7 years that Odysseus spent imprisoned by Calypso were the most corrupting. No matter what had transpired in his journey before this, this is the one thing that certainly pushed the mentality of Odysseus over the edge and continuously brought him though a cycle of hope and doubt. The first months were the least interminable- it only got worse. It was nothing like staying with Circe, Circe had listened to Odysseus when he asked to leave, Circe respected Odysseus’s wishes . Odysseus was obviously grateful for the rightful hospitality that he was granted from Calypso, but it was too overbearing to be enjoyable. Odysseus many times found himself staring at the lump on the bed that was Calypso when she slept at night or throughout the day. He stood, wondering what she had been dreaming about, he secretly prayed to Morpheus, god of sleep, that she may have dreamless rests while he was trapped with her, as to not let her mind wander to Odysseus even while she slept. Many times over the years, Odysseus would take a washed up oar or dagger or anything sharp for that matter and hover over Calypso, ignoring the fact she was immortal, and only thinking about escaping so he may see Ithaca again. The scheme of mutilating Calypso frequently infested his mind, whether it would be poison or a physical attack that was thought up. There were many times when he would almost follow through with the ideas, but instead went and slashed up the tapestries that hung on the ceilings of Calypso’s dwelling,trying to vent his anger. Over the course of 6 years and a few months, Calypso's collection of un-slashed tapestries would dwindle down, soon amounting to 0.
Other times however, he would let loose and send a barrage of stabs and slashes down on Calypso with the vengefulness of Zeus himself. The blood and fluids would splatter everywhere possible: walls, floors, Odysseus, ceiling, water, sand, food, the list goes on. Odysseus would stab and slash until he felt numb, and even then he would still be persistent in his attack. Every attack ended with him taking a tapestry from the ceiling and wiping the blood on the fleecy fabric as a sign of what he felt was victory. Odysseus would scowl at the mess that was made of Calypso, watching as her bared internal organs would still pulse with life no matter what he did. Even the intestines of Calypso, no matter how sprawled out they were, would still be working, as if nothing happened. He would take the heart of Calypso and disposed of it into the ocean, every time hoping it would finally bring an end to Calypso. But every time he would walk back in, he was greeted by Calypso, usually eating even with her guts rearranged, bloody and would say things like-
“ Is this your way of showing how much you love me?”
“ You’ll love me husband, you just don’t know it yet.”
“ I’m heavenly grateful for you putting so much effort into me, dear husband.”
“You still care about me, in your own unique way.”
Every word rang through Odysseus’s ears like pounding drums. 24/7, the words of the wretch he was being held captive by sounded sweet in mellow in the air, a sign of everlasting love from Calypso. The words hit Odysseus like the very winds of Poseidon, and the wrath of the sea itself. This cycle of love and despise was more frequent than the bickering of the gods. The day Zeus's messenger came, Odysseus wept in heavenly bliss and went through Calypso's abode and dispossessed her of most of her belongings. From every spear, dagger, poison with no antidote, and rabid animal to every tapestry he had wiped Calypso's blood on and slashed up. He laid the collection of things on Calypso's bed, and set it aflame, watching in fondness of his actions. The gods may call him meddling, but to him, the acts he committed was more satisfying than ending the Trojan war. He felt as if he were resting after being awake for 20 years. As he left the home, he thought about his heir, Telemachus and his wife, Penelope, who still long awaited his arrival to the shores of Ithaca. As he set sail off to his home, he replayed every attack he landed on Calypso, like a never ending daydream that brought him bliss and hope for a better future.