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.

Life is but a haze filled with a series of moments. Moments that you will remember months, hopefully years later. Prey tell, what are you doing with your moments? Or a better question, who is giving you your moments now? There is one who gives me these moments of late. She is an infection in my brain. I remember swinging around, arms locked. I remember early morning conversations of eternity and I remember just doing. I thank her for these moments silently now, more vocally when the time comes.

Yep, I’m in love.