this is me.
my hands are filled with wrinkles and ink..
and i believe they have a story to share. every cut and scar each have a little memory attached to them. and today, i studied my little hands. and i concentrated on them. thinking about my life, and how my stupid hands reflect it. and, you know, so far. my life has sucked. there are many scars and scabs resting on my hands. i even had my palms read. (im not sure it was an accurate source, but i still appreciated it quaintly.) i was told i had shaky relationships. i have always known this. and that my life will be controlled by fate. which oddly enough, i am very glad about that fact. because i have a hard time making decisions, and fate is like a decision master. my hands told me im fatigued. i was born fatigued. their story, is some what right. but i think my hands hold too much potential for me. i expect nothing more than terrible from myself. because i am told i am terrible. and terrible is what i will be. it's really hard holding on to something, for so long, and having to let go. after all the blisters. and welts. my hands became strong though. they became rough. and raw. and i think it's really quite time to let go, loosen my grip. and nurse my hands back to health.
sarah janelle.
sarah janelle.
