My college entrance essay was about Anna Karenina, about how much I admired Levin. It was godawful. It's another one of the things I wish I could erase from existence. Instead, I am going to have to go through the rest of my life knowing that it's sitting there in some file cabinet full of other people's awful college entrance essays, effectively beyond reach.

I don't know what made me think of that. Maybe I've been thinking about regret, and how I wish I could erase the last seven or eight years.

I suppose if I could feel as though I'd learned something, and Improved Myself As A Person, had a whole bunch of Joycey epiphanies and made significant headway towards providing ego massages to some needy young man years down the road as happens in Hallmark afterschool specials, it'd be OK. Instead, I just want to pretend none of it ever happened.