I pitched my tent on volcanic ash, convinced the world was ending in blue. Crater Lake is so still it feels fake—like you’re trespassing in someone else’s memory. At night, the cold pressed in, sharper than I expected. I lay awake, listening to the wind scrape the tent, wondering if I’d ever feel at home anywhere again. People say camping is freedom, but mostly it’s you and your thoughts, stripped of distractions. I kept waiting for awe to fix me. Instead, I just felt small. Maybe that’s the point. Sometimes the most surreal places don’t change you—they just remind you how much you want to be changed. #Travel #TravelConfessions #CampingTruths