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I hadn't exactly planned on going fishing in Caye Caulker. But, when a vivacious Dutch girl I'd just befriended drunkenly stammered across the table, "I'm going to catch a fish tomorrow! Valerie, do you want to catch a fish?" really the only thing to do was drunkenly yell back "Yes! I want to catch a fish tomorrow!" One of the guys I'd met earlier in the day on our snorkeling trip was trying to organize the excursion. The problem was that now eight people were interested in going and most of the outings capped off at four. He wasn't having any...

I wish I could say I was fearless. But that is far from the truth. You've probably noticed that I'm afraid of a lot of things. Pretty much everything, actually. But, truthfully, most of these fears congregate over two main themes: a fear of heights and a fear of being under water. I try my damnedest to push myself past them. Sometimes it ends up working out for the best. Sometimes the worst. And sometimes I just can't push myself over that hump. But hey, I try. I just can't help it that while in a body of water I imagine...

Sometimes the world seems so small. Like when you're standing on a dock at night, wind whipping past your skin, looking out over the horizon. And the edge looks so close. Like you could just reach out your hand and slice your finger on it. Or jump into the water and let the current take you to the end of the world. Or when you're hating a place, like Caye Caulker. Because you just don't get it. It's small. And kind of boring. And there is no beach, just a "split" where everyone hangs out by day. And no real nightlife. And...