Last night I was looking through my old journals and I was reminded of so much: of the fact that some people are not and were never to be trusted, for one, and that I’ve known that for six years without realizing I knew it… on a more positive note though, I remembered, in words of Jenna in 13 Going on 30, what “used to be good”; I recalled vividly what it was like to be in undergrad and be innocent and be wondering and waiting for what was to come but never REALLY caring after all. I remember how it felt to go to Kinsmen Park and turn on all the sprinklers and stay out until the sun came up. I remember what it was like to feel like you found your niche and be obsessively coiled up deeply and neatly into that niche and believe it would last and stay the same forever. I remember what it was like. In detail. I’m so grateful for those memories, whatever they’ve deviated into now.