An Ode to the Worn Out and Weary

Like the moth attracted to light, we are often attracted to all that glitters and shines. Fresh young beauty, new crispy clothes and mindless fun. You know, all those things we like to post on social media in pursuit of a few seconds of attention.

But what about those wrinkled faces, hardened skin and cracked soles? What about the minds lost to the abyss of thought, with no trace back to solid grounds? What about the worn out and weary?

There's something about wrinkles that I have always found quite attractive. Much like scars, wrinkles always leave me with nagging curiosity to learn how they have come to be. Always left yearning to learn what engraved such marks so deeply in people's souls that they surfaced to their faces.

I won't pretend I don't find exterior beauty appealing, but where has that got anyone? We're too careful about the things we love that we fear we'll overuse them lest they break. We're too protective about our emotions, our bodies, and our minds that we fear venturing into the unknown lest we're forever scarred. We fear jumping into life lest we mess our hair, and cover ourselves in mud.

However, this much I know. If anything, your scars tell your tale better than any fake smile ever will; for they are a map of all the places you've been, and all the adventures you have thrown yourself at. They are the stories that have made you who you are today. Wise or foolish, it's how you've come to be.

All those worn out shoes, all those sleepless nights spent on venturing into existential thoughts, and all those bones you've broken, they make you one hell of a masterpiece. Perfection is an impeding myth that does nothing but hold us back. So unbox that collectible item, wear those pair of fancy, expensive shoes, voice those ideas, go on that goddamn trip, and while you're at it, make sure you have a story to reflect on when you're asked about those wrinkles of yours.