I write because no one else will. Years are fleeting moments decaying and this is the best gift I can give myself. I’m giving 30 year from now me the story they’ll want to read. The time she went skinny dipping with strangers at 3am. The time I stole 5k dollars worth of goods from the mall with friends. The time I backpacked through Daniel Boone and got lost in Central Park in the pouring rain. I’ll have the loss I felt when Danny died. The loss I feel from the death of myself everyday. I have who I was. The time I ran away. The time I lost my way for a few months, found myself, and lost myself a week later. I’ll have the first time I purged. I’ll have my life and a few polaroids. The real story. It will be of no value to anyone else, but to me it will be worth more than my life. I write publicly to make others feel less alone. I write privately to make myself feel less alone.