who, me?

Sometimes I feel worn through with life. . . a feeling some of my "older" friends would scoff at. But I do - sometimes I wake up at think "22, and already worn through". But isn't it amazing how much stronger we are then we know . . . or at least I've found out this last year how much stronger I am then I ever thought possible. Strong enough to gather the things close to me and pack them in a big bundle to move. . . and then move again. To try when I think its most shocking. To cry when it would be easier to not acknowledge. So here I am. Salt Lake City when I vowed I'd never live there again . . . and actually loving it. And now looking at the next few months in front of me and seeing one thing: change. New York City, here I come. How can you even begin to know what to expect when you are moving to New York City? I find myself holding my breath. What will I do without my horse? What will I do without the mornings that smell like green on top of a mountain with the sunrise to wash over and baptize my imagination? Into the concrete mountains and crowds of people - - - a quest for new creativity and to continue in this adventure for good character. Into tomorrow we go.