I am changing.
My eyes look different. Older.
This is aging me. My spirit is becoming older.
My face isn't as young.
My eyes crinkle like crepe paper.
I'll be 32 next month. That seems too young to feel so old.
And I don't even care.
It was bound to happen sometime.
I'd rather give my youth to a broken heart than hand it over to sun damage.
Bring it on, wrinkles. You tell my story.
Age me well.