It's disheartening to see something once youthful and beautiful turn old and decrepit. Something that was once taken care of and prized left abandoned and forgotten. Growing older I have begun to feel the latter. My prime has passed. My youth has escaped me. My worth has diminished along with it.
My eyes no longer hold their twinkle, they are dimmed with lack of sleep.
My hair no longer shines and flows, it is cut short for lack of time to manage it.
My freckles scream of too much time spent in the sun, yet it's too pale to be forgiving to the signs of age.
My hands are wrinkled and dry from constant use. They are not the soft hands my husband once loved to caress his cheek.
I feel shorter and wider as my body grows to reflect how poorly I've been treating it. No more adventures to keep it lean and attractive. It has softened and rounded due to lack of activity.
And yet I feel so tired and stretched out that my energetic and playful personality has turned into one of worry and seriousness.
I feel as weathered and torn as the old house, barely holding itself together, too much of an eyesore to gather any attention.
All around me I see progress and perseverance, but each day I am closer and closer to slipping away. Unnoticed. Forgotten.
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