Actually feeling quite at peace with myself, more than usual, more often than usual... I think I’m having much less trouble adjusting to life in Madrid than I’ve had adjusting to cities in the past, and I’m not sure it has anything to do with Madrid. I think it’s me. I’ve faced this adjustment period so often before and every time, no matter how weird, how alienated, lonely, scrambled, bizarre and misshaped I feel, time creates a level of comfort. This knowledge forms a new level of patience with myself not to be perfect and loved, not to have friends for now. Thus, I feel more secure, sure of who I am... Though I couldn’t describe who I am or realize it on any tangible level...