Running through the woods. Listening to the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

I hear myself writing a letter in my head.

Dear Danny,

    I'm sorry life isn't getting any better for
you.  It blows that you can't figure it out.  You
are just a little misguided and can't find your
motivation.  You live at home and work at Blockbuster.
You think this makes your life suck.  You have tons of 
talent, your parents have money, 
and you could graduate in May with a degree 
if you were at school for one more semester.

  On the other hand, I'm years away from my bachelors,
I'm broke, I got cancer, I have a new surgery every
two weeks, I can't work, and I'm happy.  It's perspective.
I'm not dumping on you, I'm just thinking...

maybe if I show you my life you'll wake the fuck up
and realize yours isn't that bad.

Love, Josh