My grandma always had me doing some off the wall shit. Like did I really have to go to this camp? She would tell me I need to be social and meet people . Well I don’t want to stay with a family I don’t know for two weeks. This year I went to this camp called Fresh air fund. They had me stay with a family with kids for two weeks and it was the longest two weeks I have ever had. They were nice but very different, they had two boys and one girl she was about a year or two older than me. I was chocolate they were vanilla. They had no tvs and they lived a nice house. I was bored as hell because I had my barbies at home that I rather play with. The only thing I enjoyed about that was the community pool. The mom cooked everyday and wouldn’t let anyone have desert unless they cleaned their plate. I didn’t get desert often because she couldn’t cook , the food was nasty as hell. One dish looked like an oversized spam. My grandmother never feed me that crap. I always had good good home cooked food from scratch. Not that nasty stuff. I cried at night because I wanted to go home. I couldn’t wait to go home I was ready. Why was I being tortured? That’s what I felt, like I was being punished or a way for grandma and granddad to get rid of me. But it came to an end and I was thankful, but let’s just say I never went back there again! They wrote me a couple of times asking to come the following summer , I threw those letters out because I knew I wasn’t going and I could care less. 

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