I know I think about memories too much, but remembering rewrites all the experiences with a sweet, sepia tone. Tea at the Ashmolean, even though I had disgusting canker sores, because my cousin had won an art prize. I just don't want to make any more memories yet, the old ones are enough.
I am really unhappy with this blog and I'm not sure why, or if it has to do with what I thought a few posts down about purging, involuntary (Asher Roth, et cetera et cetera et cetera). I may make some drastic changes in the appearance over the next few days, or not. Sometimes I put too much into this because it feels limitless.