The worst part of the summer is the sudden realization that it's all over. No more fun in the sun with all the new friends you've made, no more watching the sunset on the beach and it is definitely not acceptable to start drinking Margarita's at 5pm anymore.
I've had one of the busiest summers. Working at a summer camp in New York for two months was stressful, exciting, tiring, fun, energizing, magical, frustrating and wonderful to say the least. All those Long Island campers definitely kept all of us staff on our toes but without their spiritedness I certainly wouldn't have as many interesting stories to tell all my friends and family.
Admittedly, I've come home speaking 'AmeriEnglish' saying the words 'like' 'though' in every sentence, using terms like 'pants' 'sneakers' or 'garbage can', over-exagerating with the words 'literally' 'casually' and 'actually' and starting almost everything I say with 'Wait' before speaking.
I have even began telling stories with the embarrassing line: 'This one time at summer camp...'.
I never got tired of people telling me how much they loved my accent, being center of attention because of how I spoke or having these British superpowers that would affect any American I approached. On several occasions I had to fake an American accent to get by, usually when ordering water or saying my name. People had a habit of calling me 'Sharna' when I introduced myself as 'Charlotte' so I started to say my name in an American accent.
Today I am home alone and it's the first time I've properly been alone all summer. I can't quite explain how much you are surrounded by people at camp. Being alone right now is strange. It's bittersweet. My camp friends back in Britain keep telling me how depressed they are to be home. I really want to sympathise with them but I feel my proclamations are empty as I live in Spain and I’ve been hanging out here mostly:
|I forget how lucky I am sometimes|