I actually didn't want to go to camp because I am not a very social person.  I feel much more comfortable writing than talking (especially with the way my voice sounds now).

Well, anyway, I went to camp, nervous as I was.  I was really relieved when all of my cabin mates turned out to be such nice guys.  They respected the fact that I'm quiet and gave me my space.  We each (everyone in camp) had our own little bags which were like personal mail boxes and a lot of people mass letter dropped everyone in the camp, so that's what I did.  I spent my time sitting alone, writing and drawing something different for each person.  I only participated in what I had to.

It was a boy and girl camp and the boys and girls flirted a lot.  I was actually really surprised, since this was supposed to be a Christian camp and all.  And, yes, there were several really cute boys, but one in particular caught my attention.  His name was Brandon.  I had to keep reminding myself not to stare or zone out.  He had just recently turned 12 and seemed so nice.  I felt comfortable when I heard him talk and that really helped a lot.  But, for some reason, I felt this strange sad longing, that I've felt sometimes before, whenever he wasn't around.

He had deep, dark blue eyes and curley blond hair that seemed to have some almost white curls and other almost dark brown curls.  He always seemed to be blushing because his cheeks were always a pleasant pink color.  He had a young, yet well shaped body.  Really nice to look at, but the moment he left I felt that bad fealing again.  I don't really understand because I never feel that way about pictures of boys, so it must be something more real than looks.

There was also a boy there named Jeff who was my age.  He was expressive and athletic and I found it relaxing watching him while I wrote my notes in the shade on those wonderful, yet hot days.  The feeling wasn't the wasn't at all the same for him, though.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe because he took his shirt off so often that I came to see him as the ideal boy form (separate from reality).

While I was around Brandon, a thought of my past would sometimes pop into my head.  I longed to be that age again (and even younger).  He seemed so innocent and so happy.  I used to feel like I couldn't be happy.  I often feel like I fell out of my life when the 7th grade started.  I don't know if that makes sense, but life doesn't usually make sense.

Camp only lasted less than a week and, though I hadn't wanted to come, when the time came to leave, I really didn't want to leave.  The last day, we all signed each other's little yearbook-like books.  I just sat away from people and let them come to me.  I signed their books and they signed mine.  Though it was very short, I especially loved what Brandon wrote.  After he finished and was giving it back to me, he looked up at me and smiled.  I almost fell of the piece of wood I was sitting on (I'm not joking here).  That was when I saw his eyes and just how cute he could really be.  I think I actually stopped breating for a moment, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't say anything.

I still open my book and look at what he wrote.  He put a little smiley face below his name and called me a great "drawer".  I don't know why this fascinates me so much and I can't explain this feeling I have, but I know it must mean something, because life has meaning and so everything in it must too.

After I got back from camp, I was a little depressed (and dazed), but all the email I found waiting for me cheared me up quick.  I even almost cried at one email, it made me so happy (that shows you just how messed up my emotions were).  I've been doing a lot better, though writing this does bring some things back again.