She - Time

Time

She stares at the creases in her hands, the many intricate lines, crisscrossing and weaving a pattern so complex and difficult to untangle. Each line has grown with her over time, seen what she has seen. Each line tells a special story, a story she can't even begin to understand, let alone explain. The patterns are unique and seem like a mystery to her, just waiting to be solved. She wonders how her hands have become so detailed over time, how with life, the lines on her hands have become more complicated. 

She notices how coarse her palms have become. They used to be so soft and so curious, touching and exploring the world around her. Holding on to whatever she could grab. Now she moves through life going through the motions, not stopping just doing what she is expected to, she has become tough and needs to be in a world like this. She would always question “What is this?” "Why is this?" When did she stop asking and just start accepting? Accepting things, ideas, actions, the way of life; she started living her life without asking herself if it was right or wrong, without considering that fact that it may not be the path for her. She stares at the creases in her hands and wonders what stories the lines would tell the world if they could speak. What she has gone through, what she will go through. Just like the bark of a tree, her hands will continue to grow hard and scarred.