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Diary of a Twenty-Something: 04.06.18.

April 6, 2018


What do happy people write about? I find myself writing less and less, maybe because I met someone who makes me so happy. They say that the miserable make the best writers. I don't know what to write about- joy? Do people write about running through daisies? Maybe I could start.


What exactly is love? I often wonder if love is meant to last or not? Some animals mate for their whole lives- many don't. Other animals stay together until their offspring reaches full maturity, and then they separate. Are we really so different? When I look at divorce rates, I can't help but wonder if these high rates may not be the results of impulsivity, but rather the result of us fighting our natural biology? I can be so cynical. Are people meant to be in love their whole lives?


We got the apartment- I can't wait to fill it with midcentury modern furniture, portraits of beautiful nude women, and the scent of coffee. I will turn our home into a little cocoon, and I will build myself a nest where I can write. I want those quiet Saturday mornings where time feels immovable- those mornings where light dances through the windows, I am in my underwear, coffee is brewing and life is beautiful.


How can one be such a cynic, and still be so hopelessly romantic? I don't always understand myself. 

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