flipping through my old moleskines and journals i’ve realized how much my style has changed over the last two three years. just going back in this archive i cannot help but feel a little shocked at my old thoughts and style of writing. but i guess that comes with writing. it comes with the obsession of having an archive on everything and about everything. couple of days ago i decided to throw out every single piece of paper i don’t need anymore there is a big pile of papers old magazines and writings sitting on the floor. i still haven’t thrown it out. excuse? it’s too heavy.

it is too heavy. it is like a burden i chose to carry around. like a psychology book a wim wenders book in my red bad with a cow. i chose to carry it around only so i could be reminded of my mistakes. knowing someone for more than a decade tends to create an illusion of knowing that someone. i thought i knew him. i thought i knew what kind of a person he is. i thought i knew him better than his numerous girlfriends. and i probably do it’s why i’ve never met any of them. i knew he was a lier. but what i didn’t know was that he hates everything i love. he represents everything i loathe in a boy. he’s the exact opposite of everything i look for in a guy. yet i’ve been in love with him for such a long time i don’t even want to admit it.

i blocked him off of my contacts list. sorry, you’ve lost me.