Just so you know, I lied on the application. A lot. I said I had a passion for forestry work, and I was an assistant park ranger for 3 years. I guess I have Holden to thank for this. I never would’ve gotten here if it weren’t for him. Maybe you would’ve believed me, you would have no reason not to. You wouldn’t know where I’ve been. I’m here because of you.

I wake up at 6 am. The sky is gorgeous, and I can see it all around me. All you can see outside are mountains. There’s a river in the distance. And I can see straight into a forest below the tower. I eat a granola bar. There’s nothing here for me, I know that. Yet I sit here. My bed has a quilt on it, I’ll never know who made it, it was already here. I brought almost nothing, journals, food, equipment. I almost can’t believe how isolated I feel. Less than ten people know I’m here.

When I worked the front desk at Ohiopyle, when no one came in for hours, I would play this game with myself where I pretended everyone else in the world had disappeared, and I was just playing along in my old life to stay sane. I would stock shelves of little stone animals, gems, and keychains, thinking, “Everything is totally fine. Everyone is fine. Soon someone will come in.” Oftentimes someone would come in and ruin the game. But a few times I really would be alone the whole day. And I’d pack up and close the store. Drive home alone, see no one on the road the whole time. Just the vast road ahead of me, lit by my headlights alone. I would stare straight ahead and see myself in the next few minutes, driving into a completely empty town, devoid of people. No lights on in the houses. A singular streetlamp on in front of mine. Eventually I’d really get into town and see the liquor stores lights on, cars parked in front of it, and remember that it was all in my head.

Up here it’s easy to convince myself I’m the only person alive.