Outcast Reflection

The process to creating this narrative of my belonging took a lot of reflecting reflect about the summer I had two years ago, which helped when I looked back at pictures we took there. Thinking back brought up a myriad of memories that I could fill books with. It also made me think about how I have changed in the past couple of years. My method to this creation was to write it as I was telling the story in my head, as I would reiterate verbally I would write it down, and then go back and add in all the description and detail in. I think I produced the best picture I could have painted for this story. I used a lot of pathos, because I wanted the reader to understand where I was mentally at that stage and feel my change into a more confident …show more content…
I was up scared questioning, “What if they don’t like me”, “what if make a fool out of myself, I could not just call home and get picked up.” After what felt like days of worrying, we got dropped off at the high school, where every camper was huddled in a group so excited. I already felt like an outcast. There was a girl I recognized amongst the group, her and her sister were in my French class, so I gravitated towards them. I sat with one of them, Elizabeth on the bus, which made me feel better because she knew everyone so I was following her with talking to people. We finally arrive at the airport about an hour and a half later, and I am already feeling good about the strangers that I will be living with for the next week. After our flight, they came around with a box, awaiting the most dreaded moment, taking our phones. My phone gave me a sense of power and comfort, that was taken from me at the time I needed it the most. The taking of our phones was a blessing I would soon learn; it made me not …show more content…
Of course this prompted us to make silly faces and goof around, which helped us all feel more comfortable. By the time we got to the camp, I had already talked to a few of the girls I was going to bunk with and I wasn't as scared anymore. Even though I was opening my shell, I was still referred to as “Seamus’ little sister” by the boys. I had a long way to go, but it was the most stride I’ve ever made. We finally arrive, and I feel my stomach knot up and my head was screaming this was a mistake. I look out my tinted window to see camp, there was a cul-de-sac where the bus pulled into, and surrounding the circle was the housing buildings, all made up of wood. Don’t get me wrong we didn’t go actual camping there was bunk beds and a working bathroom. I was trying to guess which one I would be staying in, hoping it was the one closest to the pool. I get shook out of my day dreaming by being hit by bags as kids were rushing off the bus, I wasn’t as eager. I finally step off the bus, and as I do the camp workers all had made a tunnel, clapping and high fiving us as we ran down the human path. I felt embarrassed at first, but as I kept running I felt alive, like I was a very important member of this group. I felt like I