with a capital P


I am done with final exams and papers, and the only immediate tasks are to acquire my driving permit (yes, I am twenty and cannot yet drive; come at me, brethren) and move out of my apartment. Anyway, I have an enormous backlog of outfits, but here’s one from early March, because I feel like this was the first time my Modcloth coat lived up to its full potential.

Gray top: Target. Coat: ModCloth. Belt: brother’s. Tights: BP Nordstrom. Oxfords: Payless. Rings: Rapunzelsgold and Forever21.

When I was in first grade, my class was trained to belt out the lyrics to “I Am A Promise” combined with hand gestures simple enough for our questionable six-year-old motor skills. I always got a kick out of shouting “I am a great big bundle of… POTENTIALITY!!!” because it was such a strange word, but now I can’t help wondering why we’re told as children how special we are, and how important. Because surely – surely we don’t all become… millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars.

Maybe growing up makes you lose sight of what you used to want when you didn’t think there were limits. And maybe some of us are unfortunate enough to have grown up without wanting to. Maybe we all grow up against our will.

In any case, I’ve just been hit with a huge wave of nostalgia, so here’s a song that makes me feel very young and very old.

…By way of explanation, I went to Catholic school for nine years.

ELEVEN: So, coming?
AMY: No.
ELEVEN: You wanted to come fourteen years ago.
AMY: I grew up.
ELEVEN: Don’t worry, I’ll soon fix that.
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