(diaryland) July 22, 2010 - 10:20 a.m.

I keep thinking about things that happened three months ago or even yesterday with a sad smile on my face like I'm 95 and lonely and completely bedridden with nobody to visit me. What the hell?

Stuff in the past is all equally inaccessible.

I'm scared I'll forget things that have happened to me that are mildly cool, and I'll forget people I once knew. I guess that's why I have this diary, but I can't read it. It's a real bummer to read.

God. Humans are such mopey cunts.