Just tried to organize my life by cleaning my room. Found my high school diary and had a choice: read the embarrassing entries or set it on fire. Opted to read it... Mistake. Apparently, 16-year-old me was convinced I'd marry a pop star and live in a castle. Current me just wants to find the other sock and remember to water the plants. Moral of the story: dreams evolve, but mismatched socks are forever.