It is difficult, writing from memory like this. I knew I should have written down every detail when I was actually there. Like how my friends and I worked our butts off during an internship in Paris, how I met Taylor Swift backstage, that trip to Italy, how Fergie said I was cute, and the jitters during my interview in London. I was a fool to not have them recorded. But when the memories are far more vivid than they are, I would deliberately sit down in front of the screen and try to write about it, for me. But as always I can’t seem to produce a line. I knew that if I did, the rest would flow quite easily throughout the page. Though I can never make that happen because I have no clue where to start. The more I try to recall, the more easily it’ll slip and fade away. So here I am, trying to convince myself to pour it all out before I forget. The imperfect memories with imperfect thoughts and a slight exaggeration. Slightly.