To contradict what I said a little over a month ago, things are going well and I'm not complaining. Well, I should stand corrected, I'm not complaining about my personal life, but the world around it is still a little crazy. As in these crazy American elections, I will complain about it. Or the fact that it's snowing and my brown, toasty heart is cold. Let's also not forget that they killed off Paris Geller in Scandal, of course I'll complain about that because Paris Geller was (and soon will be) one of the most iconic supporting characters of the 2000s. I complained a lot to about everything. Not in a funny way haha, but more in a "let me complain about everything" kind of way (also called: the pop-punk phase). I also used to blog about my teenage angst. Again, it wasn't really good. Or funny. But it would have made a great pop-punk anthem and, it's true, I was in a fictional pop-punk band (working names: Suicide Blonde or Clinging To a Scheme). This little WordPress blog was a home for all my pubescent thoughts about whatever my mind drifted to. To be honest with you, I haven't really thought about the overly emotional posts I've put out into the blogosphere over the last few years. This blog was destined for internet purgatory, but was never purified into viral heaven. Last night I took a trip down memory lane known as Tourist Attraction, the teenage angst-fueled blog I ran during my freshman year of college. It was a public journal to better understand my jaded mind... or at least that's what I told people. In reality, it was just a place to try to organize my thoughts that I didn't mind sharing with the people around me. Everything on the blog was categorized into two different sections: hiking... middle of paper... ...I didn't think I was that person anymore. I looked at his face after those thoughts crossed my mind and I saw a comforting smile. When she looked at me, I knew that smile. He was a genuine and loving person. When she said the words that caused me to have a mild anxiety attack, she meant it without ill intent. She meant that my quirks are still the same. I still romanticize everything, I still ramble (but now with jokes!) and I still write these thoughts in my head. These messages with infamous titles are only three years old. Of course, a lot has happened in three years, but I think these articles show growth. I went from a kid who wrote about heartbreak in a cryptic way and listened to sad white men recount their heartbreak to a kid who is more open about his heartbreak. personal experiences and spins some De La Soul while he cleans. I can't complain about it.