Adalia Rose.
9 years old.
Sassy, funny, lively and cheerful.
But her identity is incomplete,
without the blaring neon sign
DIAGNOSIS. DIAGNOSIS.
Yes wherever she goes,
at first, she's not Adalia Rose.
Her diagnosis is the first thing that shows.
She has progeria, you see.
But she is tired of all the pity.
She doesn't dream of being a man's princess. She never did.
But she likes fairy tales and Finding Dory.
She never dreams of being swept off her feet into a castle with glass stairs.
She just wants to live, smile and be happy. She finds reasons to smile about,
instead of holding on to the biggest reason she's got to frown about.
She is Adalia. 9 years old. More mature emotionally than I could ever be. She's a doll.
