Lost Notes

Someone told me that the ‘notes’ you write in your phone say a lot about you. Do they really? Is that scientific fact? Oh gosh, what do mine say? No you cannot read them.

So I had a look, and no you cannot read them.

What does that mean? That I am secretive? A plotting murderer? Certainly not a good one if I am hiding the evidence on an iPhone.

Or maybe it is just because it is where I write my deepest, late night thoughts. And no you cannot read them.

Lost notes. The ones I forgot about.

Eggs, pancetta, onion… A shopping list from October 16th 2015. I must have been craving carbonara.

The weights I pulled when I rowed. My 2k split. The weights I wish I pulled.

The name of that place that person told me to go to, that I inevitably forgot about and still haven’t been to. *Writes down again.*

Messages I sent or didn’t send that I wanted to make sound casual… but really the fear of not sounding casual, or worse, accidentally pressing send too early resulted in three drafts and a check (or two) from my best friend.

Passwords. A lot of them.

Books to read, films to watch, restaurants to visit. Levain Bakery, New York.

The things I noticed about a boy I once liked. Should I delete that one?

A random date in 8 months time. I wonder what I’ll be doing that day..?

A diary entry from a sad day that I can’t quite bring myself to read.

“Confine yourself to the present”. A quote I read and liked.

What does all that say about me? That I am forgetful but thoughtful? That maybe I should write my passwords somewhere safer, and check what I’m doing on that date, and maybe I’ll go make some carbonara now.

P.S. I wrote this in a note on my iPhone at 23:47 in bed. Or the first draft at least. Gotta sound casual.