Antler’s Campsite, 51.8, 8/26

Oh here, let me take that sign off my forehead that says “Hi, I’m a teenager. Please help me because I’m a poor lost and confused soul and need help with getting my life together.”

First off, I know exactly where I am going and what I am doing: hiking to Georgia and doing it how I want.

Second, just because I am young does not mean I need help and definitely does not mean I am dumb.

Third, I’m eating ice cream in the middle of the biggest wilderness on the east coast and there are no roses so I think this is as close I can get to smelling them.

Fourth: I mean honsetly dude, you’re not even a hiker.

And finally, or course I’m not going to be the only resident at your creepy hostel twenty miles away from any other house in the middle of the woods you sketchy creeper.

So all the lakes and streams and mountains here were named by a kindergartener. He learned the alphabet so he put the letters together to make unpronouncable words like potaywadjo, pemadumcook, and nahmakanta. Then he learned how to count so he named not one but eight debsconeag lakes.And finally when he learned how to spell his first word he titled the Rainbow Lake. For us hikers we commonly use the genrerally sounding name. Namataka is a perfect substitute for tankanaka or natakana.

I am practiciticing hiking fast enough to outrun my smell. Every night before I got to bed I pray for wind to carry my stench away. I ate an entire 16 ounces of peanut butter with a spoon today.

Today my friend Gnat took his own life. I’m pretty sure it was my smell. He flew into my eye and drowned.

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