I’ve never really understood why I do this, but whenever I’m in a bad mood, I like to delete things. Anything, things that are completely unrelated to my anger. Old pictures that are taking up space in my computer, Tumblr drafts that I know I’m never going to post, Facebook friends that I don’t care about, etc. Maybe it’s the feeling of being organized that deleting things brings to me, but there’s definitely something about it that makes me feel 10x better than before. 

Welp, I lost my car crash virginity today (sort of), because that one time that I crashed against a pole didn’t count. On a happier note I got to see Edward Norton unexpectedly for less than two seconds in The Dictator. 

It’s been a while since I last felt the way I did today. I mean that in the best of ways. I discovered strange and interesting bits of myself that I would have never imagined to be there. Today was unexpected, beautiful and, best of all, uncomplicated. 

Feels nice to be able to talk to an old friend and remember good memories, even though both are fully aware that said friendship is long gone by now. It’s like talking without the pressure of fearing that you’ll say something that’ll make the person go away, because well, they’re already gone. Not having to try, because you’re just looking to remember those moments, not relive them. Not a lot of old friends seem to understand or accept when your friendship is a thing of the past by now. I’m glad that last night’s conversation wasn’t one of those.

I just managed to fit basic pointe (ballet) into my class schedule. I don’t think I could be happier with next semester’s program :’)

Having long conversations with myself doesn’t bother me so much, neither does it make me feel like a crazy person. What kills me is pretending that specific people are there listening to me and asking me questions that I know they never will be interested in. So basically, what bothers me is knowing that nobody will probably ever know all the things that I talk to myself about.