
I had breakfast with a friend this morning. She’s 55 or so years old, and told me that last month she took 40 years of diaries and threw them in the fireplace, watched them burn up. Not in anger or despair, she said, it was just time. She said, I looked back at them and realized I don’t change, things don’t change, and what’s the point of recording that forever?
Just saying. That was the conversation at breakfast. I missed lunch.
Gangsta.
(Source: youmightfindyourself)