At glacial speed, I grow.
As a writer, as a functioning human being, as a spirited young lass wanting to taste every breeze on this earth (no eye-rolling, please), I grow painfully slow.
I wonder what it would be like to make leaps and bounds forward?
Would I get whiplash?
Pull something un-pull-able in the old mind?
Oh, well. I have plenty of time ahead. After all, in glacial years, I’m only 0.0000193 years old.