Not one single bit.
I guess I really have come a long way since then. I’ve missed a lot of other stuff, yeah…but I’ve survived. I’ve been determined. I’ve done better than I ever expected to in this environment.
Out of nowhere, a memory comes rushing back in screaming clarity, Zoe yelling at Joshua the day they officially broke up:You never should have brought me out here! You should have known the wilderness isn’t my thing.
Her words seared into my subconscious without me even realizing it.
I pick up my pen, write in neat letters:Why is *that* what stuck with me? Why did Zoe’s words hit a nerve?
The rest of the page stays blank for a long time. I mull it over while taking in my surroundings, only realizing I’m tapping my pen against the page when Parker looks up at me from her book.
Oops.
I watch the puffy white clouds, then a pair of bluebirds as they flit over to a nearby tree. It’s peaceful out here—I can see why Thorn likes it.
I close my eyes, try to shake the memory of him out of my head. I came on this trip to stretch myself, not to meet a guy, so why am I so preoccupied with whether he wants to talk to me or not? I had every chance to back out after Caden flaked—but I chose to be here.
That’s it, I suddenly realize: the reason Zoe’s words stuck with me so much.
You never should have brought me out here! You should have known the wilderness isn’t my thing.
The wilderness is very much not my thing, either. That’s what I would have said before this trip, anyway—but all these days in, I’m low-key incredulous with the way I’ve managed to adapt, especially given that I’m a particular person and a creature of habit.
Zoe, by contrast, only came out here for a guy. She didn’t know this wilderness adventure was in the cards for her until Joshua’s unwelcome surprise—hence, Zoe has had a harder time adapting. Her attitude is veryI can’tandI don’t want toandThis is terrible and uncomfortable and I want to go home. Which…is relatable.
But.
I’ve felt every single one of those things. Difference is, I’ve chosen to not let them define my time out here.
Some might say my willingness to adapt is simply a manifestationof my desire to be comfortable at all times—if the choices areDo this difficult thingorDo this difficult thing with a bad attitude, I’m going to choose to do it the more fun way.
Does it really matter, though? Whatever it is that’s helped me not end up hating every step like Zoe, I can say with absolute certainty that I’ve changed out here.
I’ve been away from my routines.
I’ve been away from my comforts.
I’ve done things that scared me: nearly slipped off those slick rock stairs on our first day, slept out in the wilderness despite my fear of every wild animal, made it out alive after kayaking in snake-infested waters (I presume), conquered a panic attack while dangling off the side of a cliff.
I’ve been prepared for a lot—but not everything.
I’ve made peace with the fact that Ican’tprepare for everything.
And maybe I’ve had more fun thanks to Thorn being around, and laughed more than I have in ages, but it’s not like he’s thereasonI’ve been able to thrive.
He didn’t climb inside my head and give me the determination to have a good attitude. He didn’t give me the strength to keep walking, without complaint, when my blisters burned like fire. He didn’t make me leave half my pack behind at the Little Free Library—though I admit his advice planted the seed in my head.
He is, however, the one who saw me clearly enough to know how much it meant for me to leave everything behind.
He rescued things that mattered to mebecausethey mattered to me. He carried them for days, then left them for me when I needed them most.
Even though I didn’t come out here to find a guy, and I’m no longer trying to prove anything to anyone but myself, I admit I miss him. It would be so much easier to move on if he were, like, Matteo levels of thoughtless and selfish—
But Thorn is extremely thoughtful.
And the fact that he clearly still cares about me, but is determined to push me away, proves he’s selfless.
I can tell myself all day long that I don’tneedhim.
