I wonder what people see when they look at my face. What does my expression convey? The scars, the imperfections, the lines, the blemishes? What stories does my face tell that I don't know for myself?
I started seeing wrinkles a few years ago, and I'm still rather young for them to be making an appearance. I used to stand in front of the mirror and wonder why these shallow creases started appearing on my forehead. What did that say about me? Is it only that I let the sun abuse my skin when I was younger or is there something deeper? Does it convey a tired soul? Or a wretched heart?
If there is anything I learned from the story of Dorian Gray, it is that a person's life gets written on their face. And it's true not only in the context of this particular novel, but also in our lives. There are people you can see who wrinkle their noses in a particular way and you can just tell that they won't be sympathetic. Some people wear the lines of constant smiles around their mouths and eyes. It's not a perfect system, but the face does say so much.
Lately I've been wondering if I've been turning into exactly the sort of person I wanted to avoid being. I've spent the past three months lamenting how one of my former friends has become judgmental and inconsiderate, and yet I'm sitting here doing no better myself. How did I let this happen?
The answer to that is simple, really. I got caught up in the rest of my life. In my job. In adjusting to a new place. I let myself go, because when I'm stressed and busy and transitioning, it's too easy to lose sight of what's going on. Of what sort of person you're becoming. And I guess that's what happened to me.
So right now, I'll do what I should have done before. I'll apologize. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being caught up in myself. I'm sorry for ruining other people's mood. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry. I'll try to be better. I promise. So please, give me a chance.
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