…you might as well read them.
I shipped* boxes of books I haven’t read in years and notebooks I haven’t written in since high school across the country because I wasn’t ready to throw them away. I don’t do anything with them. I’m too nervous to read some of them (the notebooks, not the books). They’re still in boxes, but I need to get rid of them. I don’t have the space or money to keep dragging them around, so I have to start going through them, as painful, uncomfortable, and embarrassing as it might end up being. I’m going to stash any useful bits over here, down there.
“I don’t know where to rest my thoughts or invest my focus.” – circa 2012 journal entry about not knowing what to do with my life.
“I want to write until I get so bad at it even I won’t let myself do it anymore.” – October 2012
“Sometimes being used feels like love.” – October 2014
*had my mom ship