I don’t love people.
I love versions of people that I have made up in my mind.
The last few weeks have been less than awesome. A large part of that is because I feel unable to express how I’m feeling and the frustration is eating me up from the inside. I just want to tell someone everything and just ramble on and try and figure out what’s going on, but I’m not sure who to talk to. I don’t let my guard down around many people. The one that comes to mind is the source of a lot of confusion so that’s no good. It’s all just very very frustrating. Driving home from work at night, I just want to destroy something in hopes that destruction would be somehow therapeutic. I don’t know.
This is what Istanbul, Turkey looks like
I want to go back here so badly.
The number of tumblr posts I’ve written and then deleted is absurd. Whenever I reread them I realize how uninteresting it is and delete it. Each one is some shout into the void.
(And yes I almost deleted this one too. And likely will anyway when I get up tomorrow.)
I love finding old coins. It’s so cool to hold a little piece of metal and consider what it has lived through. This coin, from 1901, is over a century old. By the time it was my age it had lasted through WWI and was settling in to the roaring twenties. Then it went on to survive the Great Depression. Then another world war. Then the cold war. It lasted through MLK. Through the hippies of the 60s. Through the rise and fall of the Berlin Wall. It saw the World Trade Center built. And attacked. And attacked again. Then it turned 100.
Now it’s continuing on. Maybe it will see WWIII. Or the end of cancer. Or a million other things about which I can only wonder. And that is why I love old coins. The wonder.