Okay, so it's this excessive swelling of the chest area. You try not to write blog posts or go on facebook or smoke cigarettes or text too much or drink too much alcohol or be sad and pathetic, like monopod and all. You tell yourself, when you're walking to work, working, walking home, sitting on the deck, lying in the park, not to do these things. They're unrealistic, damaging to the heart cells and shit. Sometimes I feel a moment defining a section of my life. You look back and you remember songs that you listened to when you were lonely, food you ate when you were content, the air quality when you couldn't get out of bed, the smell of linen when you knew someone, the season when you read The Great Gatsby. Silly shit like that. They define parts of your life. Little, tiny stories that die after a while. I don't know why it's relevant, but I think am bored and doing that thing I told myself not to do.