You'd think that is would be about distance, that this would be about all the people I miss now that I've been away for a week, but no. This is about time, which might be harsher than distance, and might be more telling, more revealing. Because when you consider the whole thing, the whole idea, when someone's far away, they're still there. Still somewhere, where you can still call them or write them, or you'll see them someday. But with time you forget details, you forget names, and God Forbid you remember much more than the important parts. Time makes it impossible to reach out again, impossible to go back and to ask for forgiveness, to make sure a secret is still a secret, to make sure they know how much they mean to you, meant to you.
These are the people I'm far from, 6 months between us, because I might not see them again. I met these people at a summer camp and I don't think I can close the distance without writing about them.
The boy who looked like Peeta from the Hunger Games, who took the little, oblivious blond boy away from the room when I started to break down. Who I had barely talked to that week, who I had no knowledge of. He understood, he looked at me like he knew exactly what he was doing for him. I don't know if he knew how big my thank you was when he took the boy to bed. And now I want to thank him for how kind he was that week, not only to me but to everyone, and how I should have liked to have known him.
And to the boy who befriended me in the first week. Camp had a funny way of making you be you, of making you just be exactly who you are. So I was broken, but I was happy and bubbly and more outgoing than I thought I could possibly be. And it was easy to be myself, because no one here was faking it, and no one here was mean. And this boy noticed how quiet I was when my friends weren't around, and how hard life was for me. One time I sat alone at a table, no food because the only bad part about camp was how hard it was to eat because I never felt well, and he offered to sit with me so I wouldn't be alone. And his smile and his eyes were soft, despite his slightly hard exterior, and that was new to me. His honest kindness, wholehearted sincerity, and just his kindness throughout the week.
And the counselors who understood when it was all a bit too much when I just had to get out, and the boys who followed me. The boy who didn't want me sitting alone, and the boy who I had known a year and who I love, despite the distance alone between us, and how they chased me out and hugged me until I calmed down. And the boy who had saved me offered for me to wait to perform, and a boy I'd never really even talked to knew my name and offered to let me wait, and so did the counselors, but I went ahead anyways. And I just know that I have a home there no matter what.
And the boy who came from such a different background but befriended me over a shared love of Paramore and a shared friend. And who there's so much to say for, but no words to use.
And the girls- my god, how many friends I made. The girls who asked me if I was seventeen, and asked me if I was dating every one, despite me insisting I have a boyfriend at home.
And the girls I shared my room with, whose secrets I won't share, but who had such incredibly crazy stories involving boys and danger, two of the most dynamic things a girl can have in her life. These girls were my family for a week or two, and I love them and miss them. They were my everything, and I know them like the back of my hand. Maybe it's the whole structure of a camp-- how you're there for such a short time, so you desperately learn everything you can about the people you have.
And the girl who was so sweet, and was so kind to me, and listened to me, who I could talk to about depression and insomnia after camp ended, who snuck into our room after hours.
And then, two last people. The girl who moved into our room the second week, with the kind heart, the voice of an angel, and who was like my little sister for the week. I tried my best to save her camp experience, to make up for her terrible first night, and I think I managed pretty well. Her mom came up and told me that I made the experience amazing for her, that I saved her week. And that feeling was the best feeling I've ever had.
And the boy who made me hug anyone who said the color yellow for a week because I lost a bet. It's more funny than you'd think. He asked the head counselor what color his notepad was, and of course it was yellow. Everyone had figured it out by now, so everyone yelled at me to go up and hug him. Best face ever.
Anyways, I just hope in this new year to learn from the experiences I had at camp and throughout the year, and to be the me that I was able to be at camp.
Love
Rex
Forever and Always
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