Chapter XXXI, where Adele (...)

I can't sleep. It's not that late but it's all so quiet. I can't play the piano so I won't get neighbors complaining about the noise. I deleted two chapters of this blog. It felt nice. It felt weird. They were stupid entries that I just wrote so I would write something, but it still was really strange to have the power of making something disappear, something that supposedly was part of my life, as stupid and pointless as it was (and trust me, it was - to the point that you don't even remember what it was all about and will only notice there's something different because there are two chapters missing). As much as those two entries were so absolutely ridiculous - they were really an embarrassment more than proper entries, I didn't like to come and delete them just like this. It's not how it's supposed to happen. We can't just erase things. It's quiet, there's a breeze. I'm sick. I put on a sweater and it makes me hot, I take it off and I shiver. I type and cough. I try to smoke but the cigarettes taste awful. I think it's a good time to quit. I've put out half a dozen cigarettes that I only half smoked. We can't just erase things. And forget. It's a quiet evening and there's this smell on the air that reminds me of nights I had quite a while ago. When I couldn't sleep and couldn't find anything else to do but think and cry and feel miserable. They were truly sad. I was truly sad. I wanted then to forget them and let them just vanish and not remember anymore so they wouldn't hurt so much. I'm glad I didn't and they existed. I'm really, really glad. So I can look back and think, 'oh well, I think I did just fine. Look at me now. I smile. I put my headphones on, listen to a song I don't know the lyrics to and smile again. I'm okay. Actually, I think I'm way better than just okay. I'm like, you know, happy.'