Yes. If it were asked of me.

"You okay?"

"no..not really.."

That's when I cringe because I know it's my fault. I already know why, too. I still ask though. My heart beats faster. Why even ask? I know the problem. Why talk about it? It's not like I could have helped it. The damage is done. It will go away in less than five minutes. There's no need to ask. Yet I still do.

I always do.

And that feeling, the one that would have gone away in five minutes, it lingers in me for hours.

I've only lived here for a couple of months so I definitely have more to explore from the city, but I like the view of the Oudegracht, especially with the Dom nearby, and especially when it's a clear night out.

Edmond Dantes.

Why is it that I can't find a picture of Cillian Murphy's penis? Srsly people, this is the fucking internet. WHERE IS IT?

Finals are next week and I'm everywhere but here. I really need to focus this weekend. Shit I don't even know when my finals are. I should probably figure that out.