Last summer, there was a fire. I was awoken by the travel division leader to get out of the cabin immediately and not to ask questions. I do not see anything at first. But when I get to safety and turn my back, the cabin of my group leader was on fire. I watch the wooden cabin break down and the flames rise high. I'm praying to God that it doesn't jump to my cabin. Then, of course, it does. It took forever for the fire department to arrive at the scene. I was crying a lot because I was already depressed to begin with. Then, when I didn't think summer could get worse, my friend almost died. At 11:30 in Costa Rica, my camp friends were walking across La Fortuna: a passenger bridge, when it started swaying side to side. Then I lost balance and fell down. A distant scream was heard. Fifty feet beneath me was one of my best friends. I thought it was a girl. Luckily, he is in much better condition today. I wish I'd died that summer. Life is still difficult to this day.