Every few days I think about camp and it starts taking my head apart.
Not because of the stuff relating to ableism and me being disabled, but just because I am not going back there, and can't ever go back there.
This man is an amazing person, who I had the incredible luck of knowing for two weeks, and then for two weeks again.
I will send him letters, because letters are important to him, but I know that he won't associate the name on the letter with me, even if someone tells him the name of the person it is from.
One time he made a drawing and when other staff asked if it was for Amanda, he said no like he was offended, and then he gave it to me and looked at them as if to explain. He's not necessarily an easy person. He is himself. A lot of things make him angry and it's easy for him to feel that people don't care about him if they don't talk to him or write him letters.
I don't understand his speech, so there's a lot I don't know about him. I did understand when he told me his mother was dead.
I used to have the idea of sending him letters with photos in them, but I feel like it's too late.