I've been flicking through people's journals, catching up on the last year of friend's lives and it's inspired me to write something down. I realise that as the years go by, my memory has changed and I can no longer recall stories and events without a trigger. As these triggers can never be counted on, I have come to the conclusion that I haven't written down nearly enough about my life to satisfy my sentimental heart. This, I find to be a great tragedy and I apologies to myself for my shortcomings.

That said:

Dear Self,

Yesterday you went and saw Wall-E with Lawrence, who, upon coming home put the duvet cover over his head and pretended to be a Starfish ghost. Yes, it is true love.

Michelle invited you to a Becks concert. Buy your plane ticket and organise your trip to visit her because you miss her.

Your dad is still waiting on the blog information.


Sincerely,

Self.