Meet Me In Montauk.

This is all a learning process.

Valentine's Day, this week.

I have a constant late fee at the library.

Complete stops at stop signs.

Sleepovers.

I have awful hair.

I am collecting donations to replace my 30,000 lost songs. 

Once upon a time, everything mattered.

What you wore to school, what make up you had on, your collection of Vogue magazine, what shoes you were wearing, even if your socks matched. Growing up you realize that what you wore doesn't matter, make up won't change your face, Vogue isn't real, and bare feet are the best. I keep laughing at these girls.

Someday it's going to work, and nothing will cave.
Thank you Woody Allen.

I am anticipating the new few months.

I'm often motivated by the wrong things. During heartache and fear.

However, I'm inspired by the right things. During love and faith.

Motivation and inspiration.

I keep saying things are good.

Well, they really are.

In the South, they say that a swollen taste bud means you have told a lie. Lie buds. They are awfully obnoxious right now.

I'll probably be drumming on my eyelids with an espresso in the morning.

It's our second Valentine's Day together. Awe.

-h.