Fine lines are what define us: the relationships we have; who we were, are, wish to be, end up becoming.
Fine lines can be drawn in sand, taped across carpet, spoken in the passion of the moment.
Fine lines can be the difference between loving someone and wondering where everything went wrong.
Fine lines are a test: of strength, of endurance, of patience; of truth, of pride, of worth.
Fine lines are the failsafe, the hiding place, the door into Narnia or Hell.
Fine lines are laid out, respected, tested, crossed, and redrawn -- a vicious cycle of lines crisscrossed across lives until there are no longer any sides, just one giant, scribbled mess.
Life is the outcome of lines crossed, lines avoided, lines bleached out of memory by sunshine, lines washed away by torrid rains.
If there are no fine lines in life then there is no risk, no reward, no happiness or pain. That's what these lines do: they prove that we deserve everything that comes our way; they prove that we have earned the next day of our lives.
Don't talk to me about your fine lines, I know all about them.
No comments:
Post a Comment