Diary 8

I saw them again and it was like a punch to the stomach. 1

All the camp people, flooding around, in my city, my territory. That guy I liked for three summers but who didn't like me. The girls who treated me like the worst kind of dirt in their cabin. 2

I saw them again and the breath just whooshed out of me. I swear I almost started crying. Everytime I looked at them I started tearing up. I still don't know whether it's because I missed camp or because I was seeing them again.3

I shouldn't let idiots like them drive me away from a great summer experience, but how great is it when your cabin mates are witches? 4

I thought I was over it all, thought that I could handle it. I guess I wasn't. I guess underneath it all I'm still the shy, scared little girl coming to camp for the first time and being utterly rejected summer after summer. I thought that I had put that behind me but I was wrong. Seeing all of them again just brought it all back and I couldn't help the way I was feeling.5

All the insecurities came rushing back and it was like being back at camp all over again. Being the outsider, the loner, the freak, the reject. Being the one everyone teases and whispers about behind her back. The one who never gets a share in the hidden stash of candy or has anyone offer to help her with her hair or makeup. The girl who always wears her own clothes and who, when asking for help with her hair is completely ignored. I was the girl who was the LEAST FAVORITE of the counselors--even they hated me! Well, most of them. 6

Okay, maybe it wasn't quite SOOO bad. But it was that bad. It was awful. Of course there were fun times and nice people. But the bad stuff just has a way of sticking with you. 7

And when I saw the convention, and all the kids, it came flooding back. It's not as if anyone acknowledged me anyway. No one looked my way or waved, or smiled or said hi. Because 1) I'm not memorable and 2) No one cares. 8

I saw them all and I was eleven years old agian.