Alyson

Last night, as on many nights, I lay in bed slightly panicked by the dark, thinking. I don’t know if it is thinking as much as it is making myself really angry, but I wake up and keep working hard (or start working harder). I get angry because I don’t live in a major city, because I don’t attend a school like Crossroads, like most of my camp friends do.

I know life is what I make it, I know, I know, I know, I know. But sometimes, I have moments in which I can feel myself existing alone in my room, allowing the cold wind of truth to pass through me: I can work two times harder, make five times as much work, but it will only be noticed half as much. ♦