Lines on my face. Lines 

know their place. Lines know that no-

thing lasts forever.

These newly discovered lines, traced on the map that is my face. Follow each one across the borders, you may find forgotten memories of laughter, sorrow and many other emotional moments that cause a physical reaction. I treasure each one, for they hold great fortune; they act as a constant reminder that with ageing, comes a consistent catalogue of memories, keys into ourselves. 

Like the coming of age that comes with the spider web, age is the thing that unites us; the daunting pendulum that forever keeps you on that spinning wheel.

We are eternally aware of how life can be short, how we must live each moment as fully as possible. 

How full is full? How do we know when we have lived that moment fully? Is there a metaphorical checklist that hangs by a single thread over our aging heads? I hope to check off what I need to in time…

Our age both does and doesn’t define us. We are a product of our decisions and maturity in certain situations. Must I grow up before I mature? Perhaps the aim is to let it guide you and accept its inevitable hand shake in our lives. 


With the recent coming of my 23rd birthday, I began to reflect on getting older and just how that impacts me. Truthfully I am still learning how exactly it does. I have only lived 23 years, I have time to learn and understand this. Ageing is something that is ever changing and will always grow with me.

I used to worry about the lines that are beginning to form on my face (I think I will always worry on a subconscious and vanity driven way.) But I have started to realise that they are a natural part of life, and a beautiful one at that. <3

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