Sticks, trees, dirt, sunlight. You didn’t want to be here, your parents just wanted you out of their sight for the summer. Maybe they missed the point of parenting, or they skimmed over the ‘parenting’ information on their pamphlets in the delivery room.

All you knew is that you’ve been running away your whole life. Running from people, conversations, and places.

Without commitment you cannot have depth within anything. Which might be why you reside in the shallow end. A linear, no matter how hard it tries, will always be constant, unwavering.

Just as you were losing yourself in these woods, deep in thought, walking way past where you’re allowed…

THUD.

That hurt.

“Hey, you’re not allowed out here. Y’know that, right? The counsellors will be on your ass.” A voice breaches. You just bumped into someone. One of the seniors in camp too.

You look up to find a boy, maybe 17/18 years old. His hair is loosely tied back into a messy bun, an untamed curl left hanging down at his face. He’s wearing a black and red flannel with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and his legs are adorned with a pair of black skinny jeans.