Trying to really get my notes together for my project got me so damned sad, because I found an entry entitled "march 2010". One year later I'm where I was one year ago... I don't know if it is worthwhile to try or not anymore. There's a voice inside of me forcing me to write even if that will get me nowhere, and something scarier, even if it causes me to get distracted from another better way to make a living... If I were ever able to travel back in time I would go tell myself not to waste time in books and imagination...