There are lots of times that I wish I kept a second journal, separate from this one. I want to write about the dream I had, that I probably couldn’t since English doesn’t have words that make that sort of description easy. I want to write about waking up a handful of times thinking the phone was ringing. I want to write about who rang my doorbell at two in the morning and why. I want to write about why it took me hours to get back to sleep. I can’t though. There are lots of things that happen or I think about that I can’t write in here, because they’re either too personal to me, or too personal to someone else. Today feels like it’s going to shape up to be difficult.