getting wrinkles is probably one of the
greatest horrors of every young woman.
Or that realization that she no longer is
really that young of a woman.
you look back at photos, and realize
that you didn’t even know you were beautiful then.
nobody told you. they all just teased you
assuming you were so secure you already knew…
nobody told me i was wasting my youth
nobody told me how short it was going to be
everybody told me that i’d have plenty of time
and everybody told me just to take my time…
and i did. and now i have wrinkles.
wrinkles that don’t go away when i stop laughing.
wrinkles that dig deeper into my skin and confidence every day
wrinkles that force me to grow up.
maybe it’s a good thing, you know?
maybe they force us out of that relying on looks phase.
and it’s true im still more beautiful than i’ll ever be again
but gosh. when you find those old pictures… i hate to admit im that shallow, but
…it hurts. i don’t want wrinkles. i don’t want to grow up.
they force me to realize im getting older
and that i need to decide what to do with my life.
and then i look in the mirror again,
and i still haven’t done enough to justify my age.
i fear i shall never be as grown up,
as mature, nor nearly confident as my wrinkles are.
they told me to travel the world while i was young
and then i woke up, and i wasn’t young anymore.
all the great guys were married,
all the hot guys were losing their hair
and all the great and good looking men, i realized
were never perfect to start with, they had a girl who brought it out…
and id missed my chance a million times.