Tying together a shelter required a greater deal of thought than mere pictures on a handbook. Without the slightest idea of what I was doing, I wound up a couple fallen branches and attempted to bring them together into a teepee like I've seen on some books. However my efforts proved unsuccessful, when I ran out of string from my shirt to hold the knots together and soon tumbled in one heaping mess. At least I could use them as fire fuel.

I soon found a lake after dark. I might have stolen a few impulsive sips before reasoning took over, and found myself fretting about whether if there had been algae in the water. But the coolness managed to stop a more worrisome outcome: dying of thirst. My throat thanked the coolness by shooting me with energy to start a fire, which kept burning thanks to the surplus of twigs within my reach. It was as though I had crashed on the perfect island. As the fire continued going, I stared down at my reflection in the lake, the rippling fabric of water blurring my reflection. It was amazing how a person could just ignore the wildness which surrounded them. All there was in the water: a couple shining rhinestones fitted out of place, some missing, and a face blurred. In the midst of strength, I can see my greatest vulnerabilities.

Mother would often leave me days end alone in the house while she stayed in her sister's house. I overheard her one time on the phone about how I had been "asking for too much" and haven't got the capacity for pity ever since father passed away. I was six years old, how was I supposed to develop such empathy? I could never understand for feel for her, other than pure resentment. The year father died the mango trees wilted and soon died. It was that year we spent Christmas in different places, and she spent hers in a bar with her sister. We moved to San Diego in hopes of restarting our lives. Nothing worked for her. Nothing did, absolutely nothing. Some days I couldn't bear to see her presence.

I soon perched atop a tree like a toucan and found myself drifting into slumber with these stringing events in my head, bursting with technicolor.