The Art of Being Alone (Together)

10 | Easier Said Than Done

Lizzie, Zack and I spend the rest of the day planning. By the time dinner is over, we've straightened out every possible kink that we can think of. We agree to attack tomorrow, given that everything goes according to plan, and head off to get a good night's rest-- God knows we'll need it. 

I wake up in a great mood, ready to take on my next workshop and eager to get back at Rita and Mei later. Unfortunately, the good mood doesn't last long. 

Our task of the day in Photography is to go outside and take some pictures, and my creativity still hasn't returned. I try a bunch of different shots, focusing on the nature of the woods, the waves of the lake, and even playing with the sharp angles of the cabins against the bright blue sky. But just like every picture I've taken in the past few months, they all seem pointless and boring.

My classmates return to the room with bright smiles and laughter as they flick through the pictures on their digital cameras, some even still posing for portraits in the well-lit room. Our teacher, Ms. Mac, let's us know we'll review our pictures tomorrow just before the outdoor speakers turn on and Miss Rodriguez announces that it's free time.

I sigh and stand from my desk as the other campers bound out the door to enjoy the sunshine. I don't feel like doing much but staring at my work and sulking, to be honest.

I gather my notebook and my camera, heading back to the cabin with a lot less spirit than I left with. Lizzie isn't there when I arrive, and I figure that like last time, she's probably working overtime on her latest sewing project. If I could get an ounce of the inspiration she seems to have, I'd probably be able to take a picture that doesn't make me want to throw my camera against a wall.

I could go look for Zack to go over the plan again, but honestly, I just feel like being alone for a while. I haven't had a second to myself since I got here, and I wasn't expecting to have Lizzie by my side most of the time, let alone having to deal with all this drama. Don't get me wrong-- I'm excited for what we have planned, and I'm not about to pull out of the prank war. But the stress of not sticking to my initial lone-wolf plan has officially caught up to me, and that's on top my frustration over my inability to take even one good photo.

Thankfully, I know one thing that usually helps clear my head. I put my workshop materials away and undress, switching my jean shorts for a pair of cotton ones and slipping on an old, comfortable t-shirt. I lace up my running shoes and head outside, jogging around the girls' area for a warm-up. 

I pick up my pace after a few minutes and head down to the beach, running along the dirt path just before the sand, heading towards the distant fire pits. The path is empty, and a few campers walking along the beach give me surprised side-eyes as I race past-- I guess like Rita and Mei, my idea of fun isn't so popular, either.

Most of the other people here might get their relaxation from floating in the lake or making bracelets back at the craft cabin, but running has never failed me before. Next to photography, it's my favorite thing. It's the ultimate head-clearer, and right now, I'm pretty damn thankful that there's no way to get "runners block." Unlike photography, there's only one right way to run, and I don't take it seriously enough to get frustrated with myself if I don't do a good job.

The once distant fire pits are now directly to my right, and the sound of camp is far behind me. A few squeals and shrieks of fun travel over from the lake, but finally, I'm alone.

After a few more minutes, the dirt path becomes a lot more natural-looking, blending with the grass and nearly getting lost underneath it. To my left, there are trees, and to my right, the beach and lake are empty and quiet. In front, the path continues, but disappears into the woods.