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Fragile Fingers
I feel as though my fingers are fragile - delicate webs of bone and skin, barely able to hold the weight of the world. They tremble at the slightest touch, whispering secrets of vulnerability. Life is slowly slipping through them, slipping through the gaps between my outstretched palms like grains of sand. Each passing moment feels like a cruel reminder of the ephemeral nature of existence.
My fingers, once strong and sure, now carry the weight of uncertainty. They ache with the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken words. The dreams they once held in their grasp have now faded into the distance, their outlines blurred by the passage of time. I try to tighten my grip on them, to keep them from slipping away completely, but they slip through like water, leaving only a faint echo of what once was.
Life, like a river, seems to flow through my fingers with an unyielding current, never pausing to take notice of my desperate pleas. The dreams I held so dearly, like feathers caught on a gust of wind, drift further and further away. I try to grasp them, but they elude my touch, dancing just out of reach. Life moves on, relentless and cruel, leaving me stranded on the shore, my fragile fingers longing for what could have been.
I watch others around me, their hands full of life's abundance. Their fingers, steady and bold, effortlessly weave intricate tapestries of success and fulfillment. They hold the promises of tomorrow, the hopes and dreams that seem to effortlessly flow through their fingertips. I envy their ability to grasp life so firmly, to savor every moment, while my own hands are left empty and numb.
I have always been told that life is meant to be held, embraced, and experienced. But my fingers, once skilled in the art of holding, have become fragile, hesitant. They yearn to feel the warmth of possibility, to grasp the fleeting moments that dance before my eyes. Yet, they tremble with the weight of insecurities and doubts, paralyzed by the fear of letting go.
I wonder if I will ever regain the strength that once resided in my fingers. Will they ever be able to touch the world with the same fervor, the same hunger for life? Or will they forever bear witness to the remnants of what slipped away, like fragments of a shattered mirror, reflecting back the shattered pieces of my own existence?
But amidst the fragility, there is a quiet resilience that whispers through my fingertips. A delicate grace that reminds me of the beauty that can still be found within the cracks. Perhaps it is in the fragility of my fingers that I find the strength to let go, to release the weight of expectations and embrace the unknown. Perhaps it is through their trembling touch that I can rediscover the courage to reach out and take hold of the life that slips through them.
Even as my fingers may be fragile, they bear witness to the countless stories engrained in their lines - the moments of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. They remind me that life is not just about holding on, but about the fleeting moments spent reaching out, touching others, and creating a tapestry of memories.
Though my fingers may tremble and the weight of life may slip through them, I will continue to extend my fragile hands into the world. For it is through their delicate touch that I find the courage to embrace the uncertainty, to let go of what was never mine to hold, and to radiate the beauty that can only be found in the fragility of being human.
© Jevanjee
My fingers, once strong and sure, now carry the weight of uncertainty. They ache with the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken words. The dreams they once held in their grasp have now faded into the distance, their outlines blurred by the passage of time. I try to tighten my grip on them, to keep them from slipping away completely, but they slip through like water, leaving only a faint echo of what once was.
Life, like a river, seems to flow through my fingers with an unyielding current, never pausing to take notice of my desperate pleas. The dreams I held so dearly, like feathers caught on a gust of wind, drift further and further away. I try to grasp them, but they elude my touch, dancing just out of reach. Life moves on, relentless and cruel, leaving me stranded on the shore, my fragile fingers longing for what could have been.
I watch others around me, their hands full of life's abundance. Their fingers, steady and bold, effortlessly weave intricate tapestries of success and fulfillment. They hold the promises of tomorrow, the hopes and dreams that seem to effortlessly flow through their fingertips. I envy their ability to grasp life so firmly, to savor every moment, while my own hands are left empty and numb.
I have always been told that life is meant to be held, embraced, and experienced. But my fingers, once skilled in the art of holding, have become fragile, hesitant. They yearn to feel the warmth of possibility, to grasp the fleeting moments that dance before my eyes. Yet, they tremble with the weight of insecurities and doubts, paralyzed by the fear of letting go.
I wonder if I will ever regain the strength that once resided in my fingers. Will they ever be able to touch the world with the same fervor, the same hunger for life? Or will they forever bear witness to the remnants of what slipped away, like fragments of a shattered mirror, reflecting back the shattered pieces of my own existence?
But amidst the fragility, there is a quiet resilience that whispers through my fingertips. A delicate grace that reminds me of the beauty that can still be found within the cracks. Perhaps it is in the fragility of my fingers that I find the strength to let go, to release the weight of expectations and embrace the unknown. Perhaps it is through their trembling touch that I can rediscover the courage to reach out and take hold of the life that slips through them.
Even as my fingers may be fragile, they bear witness to the countless stories engrained in their lines - the moments of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. They remind me that life is not just about holding on, but about the fleeting moments spent reaching out, touching others, and creating a tapestry of memories.
Though my fingers may tremble and the weight of life may slip through them, I will continue to extend my fragile hands into the world. For it is through their delicate touch that I find the courage to embrace the uncertainty, to let go of what was never mine to hold, and to radiate the beauty that can only be found in the fragility of being human.
© Jevanjee
