There is fire on the mountain.

I went up to Bloomington today for a portion of a youth rally.

I really enjoyed what time I spent at Renovate.

Then I came back down at around...3:35....that time is questionable.

Then at 4:30 I pulled myself into Ace Hardware.

I had forgotten my key, so I walked in the front door and borrowed Alene's.

Then I trudged back up to the register and sold things for 3 hours and 33 minutes.

And now, I'm going to Rebecca's.

It feels lovely to be in my sweatpants with the paint stains, and my dad's sweatshirt that has a rip in the sleeve and loudly announces, "THE BEAST" on the front of it.

My heart and my head feel like they are filled with cottonballs, a boy at school that I knew committed suicide.

And I don't know how to react, we weren't close. We never talked, but I know his famiy. And the house I'm living in right now was his old house.

And I want to cry because of the uncertainty as to how I am supposed to react to this situation.

And I want to cry because I'm just sad for his family.

False, I'm not sad. I'm heartbroken for his family.

"There is fire on a mountain top, and no one is running." -Asa