But then life got in the way.

You had an exam, a work presentation, the weather sucked, you got sick, and you just didn’t follow through or maybe you didn’t even start. Maybe that happens more often than you’d want. You are stuck in a cycle.

When you think about doing something hard and important, your brain sees it as a threat, creating internal struggles like stress, self-doubt, or anxiety, and to avoid that uncomfortable feeling, you do something easier, like just scrolling on your phone.

Each time you avoid doing the task and scroll, you feel relief, which teaches your brain to procrastinate again next time. You are building a procrastination muscle, and now it’s really strong.

This constant stimulation is keeping you from creating the life you want to live. In other words, yes, it is that damn phone’s fault.

Control over your mind is connected to the life you build, and all the time and energy you put into distraction and procrastination are keeping you in the same place. You are watching others build your dream life.

You have to work on completing whatever that hard thing is to get yourself out of the loop before procrastination eats at your life and keeps you as an audience member for someone else’s.

You have taught your brain to avoid doing hard things and now you have to unteach it.

Let me explain.

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Get out of your head, off your phone, and into your life.

You are not avoiding the task itself. You are avoiding how you think the task will make you feel. Usually, starting feels much worse in your head than it does in real life, and if you just did whatever it is that you had to do, you would see it’s not that bad.

But that’s easier said than done.

Somewhere in the mix of life, thinking has become a substitute for action. Thinking is a safe place, even if it’s overexaggerated. It’s clean-lined and things make more sense and there isn’t as much mess to clean up or steps to follow.

Thinking about doing the task can take over the space of doing the task. Thinking becomes your reality, until one day you realize that your life is in a constant state of analysis paralysis.

Even if the task that you are procrastinating is actually hard, like going on a long run, you have to think about the outcome, the reward. The cost is in the present but the reward is in the future.

But, we can’t just be driven by that long-awaited reward; our brains aren’t wired like that. Start combining different tasks together with ones you like. If you have to write, do it alongside your favorite cut of coffee. If you need to go on a run, save a podcast and only listen to it on that day.

Even better, take your big task and break it down into mini subtasks.

Practice being ok with not getting something done all in one day. Social media is a farce and makes you believe every task in the world can be done in under a minute, but good things take time and there are a ton of steps and that’s the fun part.

Break it down, make it digestible, celebrate small wins.

And don’t forget to create an environment that makes doing the hard thing just a little bit easier.

Create an environment that helps you achieve your goals.

I am not going to tell you to start waking up at 5am every day and delete all your social media, but I will say that the most disciplined people are not the ones with the most willpower; they are the ones who have built systems that make willpower less necessary.

For running, put everything you would need to take out the door in one spot. Instead of putting your running sunglasses with your other sunglasses, or chapstick with your other toiletries, or gum in your bag, keep it all in one drawer. Lower the friction.

Your brain isn’t good at multitasking, so the more distraction you have the harder it will be. Clean off your desk so it’s the best place to work or study. You don’t need the most professional, perfect system; you just need to make the system with the least amount of friction possible for your circumstances.

Another way you could do this is less physical, but it’s having an archive — for art, for work, for life. This could be photos for painters looking for references, phrases or words for writers.

Nothing is worse than wanting to do something but you don’t know where to start. If you want to go to a gym and you don’t really know what to do, have a folder of videos you’ve seen as references. If you want to cook more, take photos of the menu at a restaurant every time you see something that seems easy or interesting to make and add it to a folder. Don’t let not knowing where to start keep you away from doing something you are motivated about. You are your own goals.

Define yourself.

Finally, you have to do the hard thing, but you must also believe in yourself and believe you can do something hard. This is directly correlated to you actually taking the first steps to do whatever that something is.

Albert Bandura’s self-efficacy theory is the idea that an individual’s belief in their own capability to execute behaviors and achieve desired outcomes is the primary driver of motivation, behavior, and success.

If you want to become a famous painter or a marathon runner or a lawyer, you must believe you can become a famous painter or a marathon runner or a lawyer.

Reframe your goals in terms of your identity. You are the type of person that paints often. You are an artist. You are a runner. You are a creator. You are smart, you love school, you are good at your job. You are good with your money. Make identity-led goals and write these down, tell them to yourself. Don’t forget.

You might not want to train for that marathon, but you are a dedicated runner and that is your identity. Insert yourself into the goal. Visualize yourself as the kind of person that can get this task done.

If you want it but don’t think you can do it for some reason or the other, then you will never take the steps, and you are the one keeping you from reaching your potential, your goals, your dreams.

Do the hard thing. Believe in yourself.

Last year, I got myself out of a reading rut by finding one style of book and sticking to it, so my brain didn’t have to work as hard to get into something new. Our brains like routine, and I think when the next book feels like a seamless handoff from the last one, you can just keep going without rebuilding all of that momentum from scratch. I wasn’t flip-flopping between topics or adjusting to a completely different writing style every time I finished something, and that consistency helped me pick up the next book (almost) immediately. I don’t think this is something you should do forever, but if you’re struggling to read consistently, narrowing your focus for a while really does help. I was worried that if I made too big of a change between books, I’d fall off like riding a bike. An abrupt crash and then long standing feelings of bike hated to follow.

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While I am constantly listening to audiobooks, they are mostly celebrity memoirs read by the author. My books are different and serve a different purpose. The style I landed on was a very specific kind of novel, all New York based or at least New York adjacent, with a female narrator I didn’t necessarily like. They are low plot with a high psychological focus, and there is proximity to wealth and status, and most of the story is driven by small decisions rather than big events. The prose is generally restrained and controlled, which contrasts with the chaotic inner life of whoever is narrating. Identity is always a little unstable, and there is a constant ambiguity around control and what’s actually going on.

I think I like these books because the main characters are so deeply unlike me. I have a deep-seated want to be likeable by most people, while these women have no interest in being liked or even redeemable. I treat my entire life like an opportunity for growth, which is occasionally exhausting, and in these books, there is absolutely no growth. It’s more of an observation of their behavior over time, and it’s oddly relaxing.

I’m going to walk through three books that fit this mold, starting with the one I’d recommend least and ending with my favorite.

My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh is where this whole themed marathon started. I actually read it for the first time a few years ago at the same time as my mother, and I reread it this time around with less anxiety about conversations about the book over dinner. If you haven’t had the chance to read it (which is hard to imagine since it has been all over the place for years), it’s about a disaffected woman in New York who uses drugs to withdraw from life for a year, isolating herself and sleeping in hopes of getting rest. It’s dry and dark and is the first book I ever read where the main character just opts out of life entirely. There are a lot of reviews about it so I won’t bore you. It wasn’t my favorite and I hated the narrator, but something about a female antihero tickled my fancy and made me want to find more books like it. If you’re in a reading rut, I don’t actually think this is the one to start with, but it is the one that set the pattern for everything else I read after it.

The Coin by Yasmin Zaher is the next one I’d recommend. I read this with my old roommate and I thought it was well written, but I don’t think I will read it again. I would like to read another book by the author though. A very image-conscious woman in New York goes through life in a very routine way, focusing on taste and perception, and any small disruption unsettles her more and more. She is fragile and throughout the book you see her crack until she ultimately breaks. Everything felt so tightly wound the entire time, and you could sense that something was going to give. I think where it lost me a little is that by the end I didn’t feel like I got that much out of it, and it left me a little cold, but it is a well-executed spiral and I think it’s worth reading if you’re interested in this kind of book.

The Guest by Emma Cline is my favorite of the three, and the one I’d actually tell you to read first if you’re going to try any of these. The book follows a young woman who is drifting through the Hamptons, moving through social situations and circles she doesn’t really belong to, and she relies on her manipulation and survival instincts and charm throughout the whole thing. What I loved about it is that Emma Cline doesn’t overexplain anything, and you’re just watching this woman move through space and making your own judgments about her, and the whole thing has this low hum of tension underneath it that never really lets up. It isn’t very long so you can probably get it finished in a few days, if not one day with great weather and an iced coffee outside.

I do want to note that these are very depressing books. If you are in an emotional slump or going through something or struggling with your mental health, these are probably not the ones to reach for right now.

On a lighter note, I am currently reading Sex and Rage by Eve Babitz, which shares similar DNA to the books above, but isn’t as grey and gloomy. Similarities: the narrator is moving through the elite and aesthetic world in a way that feels familiar, she doesn’t quite fit into it, and there are strong focuses on relationships and social positioning, and the identity is fluid, and the book is very observational. Differences: there isn’t really a spiral the way there is in the other three. It’s far warmer and more romantic, and it feels more about movement even if there is little direction within that movement. I like the narrator and I hope for her, which is a nice change after spending time with women I didn’t particularly root for.

If you know of similar books, please share. If you ever got out of a reading rut, please share. If you hate all of these books, keep it to yourself.

I hope you get back into reading.

Now excuse me while I go audiobook Lena Dunham’s new memoir.

I found the most perfect pair from Massimo Dutti for under $200. I have been informed by , a fellow perfect shopper, that they have a heeled version as well at about 3cm high. My shoe closet is telling me no, but my heart is saying yes.

Things I like about my Massimo Dutti ballet flats

• Incredibly soft and malleable goatskin leather, which provides not only comfort but ease of travel if they are stuffed in my bag.

• No large bow, strap, or any defining feature other than a small knot. I’m hoping this will help them withstand the test of time.

• Rubber sole, so I could wear them out of the box and not have to make my way to the cobbler to add anything too industrial to the bottom. If shoes are leather-bottomed and low profile, I find that reinforcing the sole sometimes changes the shape of the shoe a little bit. Just enough that I notice.

• Room for a heel pad insert. I mostly get blisters on my heels and like to add a plush pad to the backs of my shoes, where they would rub the most. These shoes curved in such a way to hug the heel that the pad didn’t stick out or change the way my foot fit in the flats.

• Potential to be revived if needed. Remember when I said they were soft goat leather? I expect to give them a bit of TLC after a summer of wear. They seem high quality enough where it will be worth it and they won’t disintegrate, like some of my older vintage shoes have done in the past. Damn dry rot.

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Although those shoes did the job for me, I am happy to report my findings for research purposes. Just because they didn’t work for me doesn’t mean they wouldn’t work for you.

• Tony Bianco Martinez Leather Flats: I liked the look of The Row leather Mary Jane flats, but am unwilling to spend over $800 on a pair of shoes that aren’t able to either do my taxes or predict the future. After a quick search, I found Tony Bianco. The brand has been on my radar for their heels already, and I gave them a shot. I used the sizing chart, they ran big so I ordered a whole size down, and even after they came in I felt like something was off. They were, in fact, the kind of shoe that gave me the aforementioned flipper feet. Too wide, too slipper-like. They didn’t look as slimming as I wanted them to and there was too much room. Although they were extremely comfortable, and would have probably worked well with socks, I think the wide, flat shoe emphasizes my height, or lack thereof, so these made their way back to the post office to be returned. I will say I also went in store to their pop-up in Soho to try on other pairs of ballet flats, as the leather was amazingly soft, and had not only the worst service known to man but the lack of inventory was astonishing. I am a seven. How are there no sevens? That’s incredible.

  

• Camper Ballerinas Right: I tried these on in person in Williamsburg at one of my favorite stores called Shoe Market. Their Mary Janes were very cute and came in the most beautiful colors; periwinkle was my favorite. They were soft, but too narrow in the toe box for me. The sole of these was the best I tried in terms of sturdiness, they were almost sporty, and the strap was far thicker than the normal Mary Jane. If you are looking for something a bit more casual, these would be a great option.

• Madewell Greta Ballet Flat: I tried these on in store. These are a cult favorite by women on the internet and I could see myself getting them in the future, but honestly, after trying on so many Mary Janes, I came to realize that they just weren’t what I was looking for. What I liked about these is they came in so many different styles. What I didn’t love is how they wore on some people over time. During my research I found the toe squinched up in a way that looked like you kicked a door. I don’t mind worn shoes, but I don’t like the squinched look.

  

• Dolce Vita Ritla Leather Ballet Flats: Due to the toe box thing, I got these in a wide. Big mistake. Huge mistake. They were massive on me and, reading the reviews, everyone else felt the same. If they did fit, I believe they would have been more of a contender. The normal width was too narrow and the wide was too large in every way possible. It was a Goldilocks issue for these at the end of the day.

  

Going on to the flats I already own and why they aren’t the perfect pair. I will link similar options to what I have.

• Red suede Aerosoles flats: comfortable, but the toe box is too narrow so I can’t walk long distances. I also don’t love that the sole is tan and a little thick for such a dainty shoe. These are cute for work, and I love wearing them with navy pants and skirts, but the comfort is just not there. The suede is also a bit warm for summer and the shade of red is very bright.

• Jeffrey Campbell faux patent leather flats: These have done the job before but I didn’t want patent leather for my perfect flats. These also cut and give me blisters and have a limited shelf life due to their material. Overall, not super happy with these. I wear them in the winter with socks. Now that I write this, I’m considering gifting these away. If you are a size seven and live in New York, I’m more than happy to give these a home where they would be more appreciated.

• Gucci smoking slippers: Very wintery in look, the bottom is leather, narrow in the toe box, and very formal to me. Also, they have logos on them, although faint. Similarly to the red suede Aerosoles flats, they are not the best in summer. They look fabulous though and I love wearing them to dinner.

• Rothy’s Mary Janes: I am embarrassed I own these, I hate the material, I don’t think they look good, but I can’t lie. They are so comfortable. I wear these with gym shorts in the summer mostly and would never wear them to work.

• Honorable mention: Red Repetto Camille ballet flats with a small heel. Now, these aren’t necessarily flat so I’m hesitant to add them here, but I wanted to warn anyone who has been eyeing these. I am someone that will wear shoes that are a little uncomfortable for short periods of time occasionally. I get it. Sometimes the outfit needs it. But these… these are pain. They pinch everywhere, they run small, they don’t stretch, and you have toe cleavage. The term toe cleavage came to my attention when my dad, who never mentions clothing on other people ever even if that means they wore a banana hammock to church, told us there was someone working in a warehouse that he saw with far too much toe cleavage and he believed it was a safety hazard. Maybe when I’m in Paris I will try some non-patent leather Repetto’s on and report back, but I am not feeling confident.

Ballet flats I did not try, but you should and let me know if you like them.

• Margaux Demi Flats: Lots of reviews on these but I just didn’t think they would be very comfortable for long walks.

• Quince Italian Leather Handwoven Square Toe Ballet Flat: I have been eyeing these a while, I love the woven material.

• Everlane Day Mary Jane: I saw these in store after I bought my perfect flats and they were incredibly soft and so beautiful.

• Alohas Rosalind Ballet Flats: Funky option! Great wide toebox.

• Heaven Well Within Soft Leather Ballet Flats: These look so comfortable, I almost ordered these but got return-fatigue.

Now that I am done with my search for the perfect ballet flats, I am on to the perfect sweater. Lightweight, maybe a bit sheer, with a tight and relatively thick waistband so I can fold it up and everyone can see how great my belts are. I want it to be comprised of mostly, if not all, natural fibers (although wool I have issues with occasionally, the only type not bothering me being cashmere), and I want it to be black and a neutral tan (both), but I could be persuaded to buy grey if it is perfect. I don’t want wide arms, I want them to be fitted. I am stubby in the arms so even if the sleeves are three-quarter length that is ok. I don’t want the waistband to go up to my chest and I don’t want the cardigan to be a funky shape. I want it to look like the perfect, almost shrunken cardigan with a bit of room to move around in. If I ever find this perfect cardigan, you will be the first to know.

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Every day, I write in a journal, and I have for years. Some days I write pages and pages and others, it’s just a to-do list. I’m not following The Artist’s Way; they aren’t morning pages. If I just extend this process a bit more, and write here rather than scribble in my notebook, I think it might help.

When I was a kid, I used to love writing. I mostly wrote songs and poems, always trying to be more grown up than I actually was. I loved the storytelling aspect. As I got older, I stopped. Maybe it was the change in my media consumption, a diet that consisted of YouTube videos and TV shows featuring troubled high school students I badly wanted to relate to and never could. Now, I want to take that same feeling back, getting into a flow state.

I want to keep the lack of barriers for my writing practice, like I do in my journal, and I want to do it five days a week and not the weekends, so it can fit right into my routine. I try to touch my laptop as little as possible over the weekends and I just know if I open it to do this, I would never get off. I have a hold on my calendar right now from 9 to 10 am. The perks of working with a lot of west coast people is being able to ease into my day and this can be part of it. Today I was twenty minutes late to the desk because I had to pick up my dry cleaning, but even 40 minutes of writing could help. On Tuesdays, I will write my other newsletter, which is less of a brain dump and more of a corralling of news that I find interesting.

I think about people who are able to write books. Sure, anyone can write one but not everyone does. It requires mental tenacity and finding a throughline in it all, whether that be the theme of a medical textbook or the storyline of a romance novel. Sitting down and just doing it is what separates those who have written a book and those who have not. Of course, publishing it is a different story. I am sure that’s a difficult part that I’m not taking into account.

Where I lack in spoken clarity, I make up for in sitting down and doing the damn work. You would be surprised how many people sit down and say they are going to do something and then don’t. So many people have dreams and aspirations that are crushed, not due to the lack of time or resources, but the absolute distraction that they let themselves fall into. I hope that my ability to stick to a routine and do the work, even on days like today where writing doesn’t seem that interesting and my brain feels empty, carries me.

I don’t have an end goal. Maybe I’ll write 100 issues and see how my writing changes over time. That might be fun.

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Something in between contrasto (Italian for contrast, where something feels different through comparison) and nyans (Swedish for subtle nuance, the small details you suddenly notice). Nothing changed, but you’re seeing everything differently.

Over the weekend, I visited my sweet friends that just moved. They are the first of us to ditch city life for suburbs, and not just any suburbs, Greenwich Backcountry. Greenwich is a beautiful place, the homes are massive with long driveways lined by trees. If you’re lucky to see the houses from the street, you can see the lawns are sprawling and cut all the same, so you can’t really tell where one property starts and one ends. It is manicured and perfect. I am making a generalization about Greenwich, most of it is like that to me as an outside visitor, but I know it’s quite large and the areas differ.

Greenwich, to my knowledge, is split between three main sections: Back Country, Mid-Country, and In-Town or Coastal. Backcountry, which is closest to Westchester County in New York, is very private. There are large acreages with estates and stables full of horses. Bordering that is Mid-Country Greenwich, which is more suburban and includes Stanwich Club, where I’ve gone for Christmas dinner the past few years. This is my biggest understanding of the region and I’ve been told it’s a very “classic Greenwich” suburban place. This connects on the other side to In-Town or Coastal Greenwich, which sits along the Long Island Sound. This includes Downtown, Cos Cob, and Old Greenwich. Here, life can be a bit more walkable and you have easy access to the Metro North to get into New York and I-95 for commuting, whereas Back Country is furthest from the trains and is much more quiet, secluded, and resembling a countryside more than any type of suburb I’ve been to. Backcountry is peaceful, hidden, and removed from normal life. If Downtown Greenwich yells, Backcountry whispers.

Unlike many of the Backcountry homes, my friend’s house is not an estate and there are no signs of equestrian life. It’s in the woods and is almost all glass. Their driveway is hard to find and instead of sprawling lawns surrounding the path, there are low stone walls and gardens. From inside the house, you can see there is a drop off in the back, and the stonework continues down, creating a path to the woods. Every way you turn you’re surrounded by either deep woods or bamboo, planted by the original owner of the house. To say it is stunning feels insulting, it is more than that. My friends have taken great care in preserving the landscape, spending hours and hours cleaning out the ever-expansive acreage.

Inside, their home is full of carpets from their trip to Marrakesh and pieces of Japanese art. Their furniture is curated to perfection, they both have beautiful taste. One half of the couple grew up in New Mexico and the other in Paris, right in the city. Their styles blend beautifully, although unexpectedly, and you can see that in their home. It isn’t a beige box, it isn’t a movie set. It’s warm and inviting and is straight out of a magazine. I love them together and seeing how beautifully they were able to conjoin their life in this home together makes me happy for them.

It was hard for me to not notice there were no knickknacks in their home. They gave us a tour of the whole place, inside every spare bathroom and walk-in closet, even where they keep their vacuum, and not a single knickknack was to be seen. I thought of my own home, a cobbled together one-bedroom apartment that I cherish but is far from anything I would call beautiful. If it weren’t for all the knickknacks, the apartment itself would probably fall to the ground. From my couch alone, I see four different types of bird knickknacks. One is glass, holding matches, one is plush with bunny ears from leftover Easter decor, one is wrought iron that looks like a pigeon, and one is a plastic bird driving a peanut my old roommate got me. I don’t even like birds all that much.

My apartment’s offputting nature doesn’t stop with the knickknacks. I have a great couch but it is an unfortunate one. It is the most comfortable couch you’ll ever sleep on, and many have done so. I can’t have a sectional or a pullout couch because I am in what they call a railroad apartment, which just means it’s one full floor that is very long and skinny. My couch is eight feet long and fairly deep, which can become even deeper when we take the back pillows off. It would absolutely be perfect if it wasn’t chocolate brown corduroy and far too large for the space. To spare my apartment, I won’t be sharing any more details, but I will say my friends had a large sectional all six of us could sit on with lots of room in between, plus comfortable chairs if people wanted to face the couch. I do not have any chairs other than my dining chairs and some stools I stack under my desk in case we have any visitors and I run out of dining chairs, which happens to be every time I have people over. They aren’t very comfortable.

At the end of the trip to my friend’s house, when we were wrapping up dinner, they pulled me aside and pointed up to a beam close to their ceiling. There I saw it, I finally saw a knickknack. It was the miniature cat figurine holding a fishing pole I got them last year. It was a dot of unperfect in a sea of Greenwich perfection. I had no idea how they could have gotten it up there and the thought of them discussing where to put the silly plastic figurine made me laugh. The cat figurine sat there smiling, overlooking their beautiful space just like I did all evening.

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I carry a big bag to work, always looking stuffed, and I think people can tell I have too many shoes by seeing my stuffed bag on the subway. A big, stuffed bag is a clear sign of someone who owns too many shoes. A whole wardrobe sits in my bedroom with shoes neatly organized into baskets on every single shelf. I even have a pair of shoes I bought for my twenty-second birthday that anyone would think are fabulous (a beautiful pair of vintage silk mule kitten heels. Put all those words into eBay and you will be dropped into heaven on a screen) but I never wear them. They sit in a box on top of the wardrobe.

One internal war I’ve faced head-on in my adult life is my inability to be sure of anything and my collection of shoes is evidence of that. I’ve never understood how anyone is truly sure of anything. Growing up it would take me hours to figure out what to wear, mostly focusing on the shoes. I am so short, that to me the shoes make the biggest difference. There is a huge difference, in my deranged world at least, between an event that requires height in the shoe or not. I would consult others, look at photos from the venue to see what people wore in the past, and compulsively check the weather because the only thing worse than wearing shoes that don’t fit the theme of the venue is wearing shoes that don’t fit the state of the weather. Would wearing heels be too much? Would I feel too short if I didn’t wear them? Would I be uncomfortable not wearing socks? Is this an outing that requires a shoe to have a sock? What if I want to go on a walk after and there are cobblestone streets and it starts snowing?

My sureness expands past shoes too. I haven’t had a full time job in years, unable to be certain that one company is right for me. I went to an engagement party for my dear friends that have been together since high school and couldn’t stop wondering how they were so certain that they were each other’s life partners for eternity. Love at first sight has got to be a chemical reaction more than a sign that the person is surely the one for you. When I first adopted my cat, I admitted to my boyfriend while in bed late at night, back facing him and looking at a wall, that I was unsure if I chose the right one at the shelter and I also had no idea if I would love her as much as I loved my previous cat. (This was so silly and thinking about it now I can’t believe I would ever say that but I did. I love my sweet cat Bodega more than my shoe collection and I was being dramatic, but you get the point). It almost feels like I am lacking some magical female intuition that everyone else has. The worst phrase I’ve heard in my entire life is “when you know, you know” because I’ve never known anything to be one hundred percent true and factual, ever. We are constantly debunking things we thought were known in the scientific world, so how am I, someone who is not a scientist, supposed to sit here and say I know something and am sure of it?

This unsureness has engulfed reality until now and my shoes have helped me see a sliver of self growth, even if it is minuscule to the eye. I think self growth is a bit like going to the gym in this case. I see it, because I see myself every day, but others probably won’t see it for a very long time. I know my unsureness is getting a bit better because over the past two years, despite my collection, I’ve worn the same shoes almost every single day. They are old mule loafers and they’ve seen planes, offices, bars, and grocery stores. They sit by my front door, not to be mistaken as a part of the wardrobe full of my other shoes. They aren’t very fashionable, they aren’t expensive, and they are more similar to something you would see a grandpa wear than someone trying to make a statement or replicate someone with impeccable taste from the 90s, but I am still so sure of them. I am so sure of them, that even though they aren’t the best shoes in the universe, I would get them resoled because I am so sure I will love them in the future. I am sure of something and that feels good.

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