I didn’t get to finish my tea this morning because of gravity. I’m blaming gravity because, without it, it probably wouldn’t have spilled all over the road when I fell.
I suppose I could blame my ankle, because of how it often dislikes being an ankle. I think it wants to be a really loose door hinge, instead, with the way it likes turning inward toward the rest of my leg.
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It’s August. The 13th. My birthday’s rapidly sneaking up on me. And I’m going to be 27.
My sister graduated from highschool, has a job and a car, and is filling out apartment applications.
How the hell am I going to be 27? When did this happen?
Even if it’s off. It’ll still find a way to make you have to learn how to [for example] learn how to use your thumb to reach all the keys your right index finger would normally reach.
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