The only reason why I like being in camp nowadays, is that I actually have things to do when I can’t sleep and I can sleep when I have absolutely nothing to do.

It’s just different, out of camp.

My mind goes haywire as I lay on my bed waiting hopefully for my eyes to shut; but it never does.

It‘s complicated. I think when bad things happen—whether someone dies or people argue or split up—you get to a point where it‘s just too hard to go back. There‘s so much lost. So many versions of the truth. So many versions of how things might‘ve turned out differently. We all long for what could have been. For some people, it‘s just easier to move forward and try to forget.