The truck bounced up and down as the tires made harsh contact with the gravelly road beneath it. The bumps and swerves were almost soothing as they rocked both you and the pink haired boy next to you, who had taken comfort in the passenger seat staring out the window. His lips were drawn into a tight line and his eyes were closed but flitting back and forth as he dreamt of nightmares, presumably. It was hard to live the life the two of you shared and not feel a little scarred on the inside. Being on the road without any sense of direction was so freeing compared to the life you were living before. After discovering the news of your mother in the psych ward and your father leaving you to fend for yourself, the path towards self-love and acceptance has not been an easy one. Picking up people along the way and carrying their stories with you seemed to be the only attempt at salvation when it came to your humanity. That's what people with morals did. Did you have morals anymore? It was hard to tell.

"It's getting dark. Are we almost to the lake?" The boy piped in, interrupting your thoughts as your hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as you prepared to turn right towards your special campsite. It was just a small spot by the trees and the lake that you two often shared a cigarette and a story or two. Sleeping under the stars has become normality.