I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

I can remember her now perfectly, and it brings a tear to my eye. For soon the image might fade, as it did before. The feelings I have may become shadowed, as they did before. A glimpse is all I need to remember.

Take a picture, it will last longer.

I still have a pretty subjective way of remembering how people look. The longer I am away from you, the more I’ll warp your actual appearance into my opinion of you. Basically, if I like you then you get better looking, if I dislike you then you get uglier. If I see someone I haven’t met in over a year, inside I’m usually thinking, ’Oh, that’s right, this is what you really look like.’