We're not even halfway through the hot season...
The constant hunger of the natives is wearing me down. The shells and beads I must trade to fill their stomachs breaks my meager supply. They must have sustenance though, so what am I to do? I return to camp after a long day of earning the required shells and beads only to find the baskets and cold box empty of supplies. Their cries of hunger break me and I have no other choice but to drag my weary self to the market to make sure they are provided for.
The natives are whiney and bored and constantly haunt me. There are no private spaces in our camp, or even when I am away from camp. They are always connected to me in some way. I have constant company in the checking of electronic devices, cooking, talking on the phone, walking, writing... Most of the time I do not mind, because I miss the natives as much as they miss me, but there are days...
Days I dream of running to other camps and hiding out for a moon or so. I could do so, but chances are, I will not. These natives have touched my soul. I am powerless to resist them. I have obtained the ability to escape for a few hours on occasion and have done so. The time does wonders for my soul and gives me the energy to deal with the chaos when I return to camp.
I already know I will survive this season. In many ways, it is easier than past seasons, though I long to be at camp full time again and not have to deal with this kind of sweating for shells and beads, arranging native companions, and being so drained every second of every day. Someday. Hopefully before they are ready to leave our camp...
Look for my signal flare. If you see it, fire up the margaritas...I will be most appreciative...
Behave!
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