Flesh

If my flesh could fall away and leave me with just bones, I may be happy and better off.
The wrench that twists inside my stomach is a constant reminder of my failures and lost dreams.
That is not saying I'd be better off dead. No. Quite the contrary.
I just may be better off with a fresh suit of skin.
A sort of blank slate.
My knees are scarred from years of crawling.
I'm tired now.
Must recharge.

Laugh Lines

I looked in the mirror on the way home in the car today. The lines around my eyes were a little more predominant then usual, the crevices around my mouth a little deeper. I think the skin, just under my jawline, is getting a little looser, so I tapped it with the back of my hand to make sure the blood circulation gets in there properly. My hands need more cream then they used to. They always seem to be dry. Old hands. Wise hands maybe. I'm not sure. I laughed a lot this weekend. Laughed until my insides hurt so much I was crying and bent over in exhilarating pain. I love that feeling. The mixture of the two. The fine line between happiness and hurt.

I've missed that feeling up there at the farm. For so long it has just been a constant reminder of one of my biggest mistakes. One of the most sorrowful periods in my entire life. Finally, this weekend, I caught a glimpse of what is to lay ahead. I've been welcomed back in; the only hesitation was from myself. Foolish girl. Maybe that's why I laughed so much.

I'm ready for this thing called "getting older"and I'm embracing the lines on my face, as if they were fallen soldiers, short stories, life lessons. Because that's what they are. My life. My lessons. My mistakes. My accomplishments. My lines.