away at my mind; I felt them slither up my back, attempting to grind down my skull and enter my consciousness. The ‘Home’ button on my phone was becoming increasingly alluring, but I could not succumb. I was not going to be forced into submission by a few drops of water. Sleep would make the night go faster, but that seemed as much out of the question as just giving up; what if the water, in my moment of idleness, were to launch its decisive attack, and I were to wake up suffocating in a stagnant deluge? The only option was to stay on sentry duty and guard my emotions from this damp fiend. I went outside the tent to assess what the heavens had in store for me next.The conditions were brewing, promising a storm of vast proportions.However, the clouds seemed twisted and unpleasant, a shade of grey that resonated depression and monotony. Nature failed to offer even a beautiful storm to compensate for what it promised to put me through. To deter my determination to give up, I threw my phone into a puddle, then immediately rushed to retrieve it. Desperately I attempted to dry it, for ultimately I could not detach myself from a desire to escape and be free from the torture that nature and I had colluded to inflict upon me. I attempted to regain my rationale, but my rationale told me that a puddle had defeated me. Recovering from my momentary loss of reason, I began to reconcile myself to my loss. By now water had seeped its way through the entrance, after a few hours of awkwardly hovering at the front of the tent, and proceeded to devalue all my belongings. Patches that had momentarily evaded wetness were also now immersed in the omnipotent water,which had become the master to which I had submitted as well as the subject of my resentment. I had lost; the water had negotiated the inner layer of the tent
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