Monday, Jan.16th 2017 I
This is why I never date things. If I write the date first it changes the tone. I never know how to start after that because every thought follows the date, instead of just jumping right in.Usually it doesn’t matter after that.Sometimes I look back, I can remember the feeling and maybe even where I wrote it. Time is a lie, dates aren’t real, so whatever.
Sometimes I date things after I write them, that’s nice-ish. A lot of the time I leave it because I know I’ll go back and add things–I like to write the times on these days.
I don’t know why I’m writing all of this down now. I know I do that and this seems like the kind of pointless thing I might tell someone I am close with. This is the kind of small thing I want to know about. Something as insignificant makes me fall in love. It also makes me deeply sad that most of the people I know wouldn’t give two shits about this.
Where is the appreciation? Where are the tiny things special to someone besides me? I feel like Carrie Bradshaw when I end things in a question that cannot be simply answered.
I’m Chuck Bass.
and nobody cares.