Dynamite

A few nights ago, there was a storm that sounded as if the sky was crashing down.
I've worked, gone to Borders practically every night since I got to camp, and have been waiting for the nonexistent letters people promised to send me.
We dug a hole. Yes, a hole. And it was spectacular. The best hole one could ever hope to dig. And sand chairs. :)
I broke down last night. Not a proud time, just sat on the porch and cried, thinking aabout how pathetic I feel and how awful everything is and how LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG it takes me to just. Move. On.
I've written three letters, received none, and am reading like I always do.
I have a meeting about Blood Born Pathogens in half an hour. Trust me, it sounds better than it is. Probably Borders tonight, a few tears seem inevitable, and movies. Many movies. Maybe a walk alone, just to clear my head. It's so cluttered with useless information, it'll be nice to just do a clean sweep of the stuff that piles up like dynamite. And trust me, that makes sense.