"My cup runeth over"

I have absolutley nothing to say, and yet I still want to be there with them. I just spent the last 5 days with a few people, day in and day out, and I still want to talk. I don't have anything to say, but I want to talk. There is something comforting in having someone to sit and watch the stars with, even when there aren't any stars. And then to wake up the next morning and complain to the same person about how tired you are, even though being tired is worth it just to be there. To stay up until close to three when you haven't slept a full night all week, and have to wake up at seven, but to stay up all the same, talking; conversing; bonding.

Camp is hell. The bugs don't mind Off, the sun doesn't stop beating, the beds are humid and uncomfortable, and forgeting a piece of paper means a quarter mile walk. But Camp is a hell which I go back to every summer, twice a summer, three times a summer. We are all in the hell with one another, and that makes it all worth it all. I enjoyed the heat, the bugs, the sandy bunks because there were friends at every corner of every room. I would walk back and forth to the cabins just to keep a conversation going, or on the off chance that one might start up.

Brandon, Jason, Jerriod, Will, Mark, Tina, Brandy, Jennifer, Chris, Andrew, Meredith, and Bria: Thanks