It's cold outside again
Often when looking at things I've written in the past, I have no idea what the hell I was thinking or even what it's about. The same goes for things that have been done. Or pretty much everything, to be perfectly honest. It's probably the same for everybody, but to what degree? I would of thought that by my age I would be more self assured and have a clearer idea of the kind of person I am. Not even close, it seems. This has nothing to with the writers block whatever thing, I was feeling like James Dean with XX chromosomes. I'm not depressed or anything either, just thinking a bit too much right now.