Quality of motion.

And then it is July and I am so worried because I've been stuck in this crevice for so long with nothing to write about and before I know it it'll be August and I'll be blowing out birthday candles and headed back to high school again for "Guess and Hope a Lot That Things Work Out Semi-Nicely" round two and then all of a sudden I'll be wearing a cap and gown and then wandering the streets of Manhattan and living off of goat pops alone because I'm simply trying to pay my tuition and hopefully dating someone tall and skinny and cultured (fingers crossed) and then we'll have kids and our kids will have kids and out of nowhere I'll have gray hair and wrinkles everywhere and I'll maybe even consider Botox for a split second, and I'll wake up one morning and realize I can't see without my glasses or move without my walker and then the next morning, I simply won't wake up at all.


I am praying for quality in my motions. When I realize I can't see or walk, I don't want to realize I never did anything with myself, too.


I can't breathe easy, either.
All my love,
Addy


P.S. On a lighter note, remember this shirt? Guess which lucky girl found it in a Park City coffee shop yesterday called "Atticus" (As in, "Finch"): me. That's who.