Thursday, August 26, 2010
When I was a young and dreamy girl, I imagined a confident and successful woman in my 30s. In reality, I am still immature both in love and work. I am taking some time to look at my hand like a mirror or like introspection.
The nervous thumb is worrying about everything. An index finger is struggling to hide herself getting old. A middle finger and a ring finger argue for setting priorities in their lives like two different egos. The youngest, a little finger is still adventurous and never stops pursuing her dreams.
We know that "every moment counts," but we also know that every moment cannot be perfect. With all the varied gaits, am I doing alright in my thirties?