Dear readers,
Recently, I have been put up to the horrific test of camping. You might think I'm being dramatic; in that case, you'd be very correct. It is truly the most time-consuming and wish-I-was-doing-something-else hobby in the world. I don't judge, but I do worry for the millions of people who find this type of physical exertion "fun". The only ecstatic and euphoric thing that happened during that trip was probably the consumption of over a billion s'mores. (My stomach hated/s me) Camping is much like the healing process of humankind. You are placed out into the unknown (okay, maybe the camping ground was pretty popular, but still!! Almost drowned in the fresh air and the Delaware River!!), and you are given limited supplies to live. You are robbed of a life you once imagined you'd always have because of something you did. You can't help but hate the environment around you because you refuse to hate yourself. And when you do, you start stuffing your face with gooey marshmallows and melted chocolate. (no joke, they were literally so good I could curse) And then you hate yourself for doing that. The healing process is one big joke presented to a circus audience that is the public. My message to you today is: Eat as many marshmallows as you want, hate as much as you want, and even cry. Because you'll never get anywhere if you don't start healing now. The hardest thing to do is start.
With much love,
diarygirl
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