
This is the view overlooking Lions Lake, at my yearly childhood summer escape, Lions Camp.
I've always loved that time of night; bright enough to see, dark enough to be comfortable on the eyes. Temps for that time of year were always comfortable at dusk. I'm not surprised there's nostalgia- almost every night was spent at a communal area behind the picture. That view was always waiting for us as we'd wander down the hill and off to our cabins to settle in for the night.
But... I wish those memories weren't there.
I suppose I should say, I wish the sad memories that my brain immediately associates (and then, of course, jumps to instead) weren't there. For every happy memory I can muster, there's always something sad that decides to tag along and overshadow the whole thing.
I know, in retrospect, that some of it was my own doing. But, I know a lot of it wasn't, too, and it's really sad to think that, even in a circle of my own peers, I still didn't fit in.
My mind's too muddled, so I think I'll cut this short and let it stew some more. I really need to get back into the writing thing, to some extent. I'm rusty.
Bleh.
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