Empty

It's kind of strange that I wrote this before yesterday. But I wrote it, and I feel as though I should share it.

It's funny how we age. We grow older and lines scar our eyes where we once smiled, and as those lines increase, the lines on our brains deepen with things we have learned.
Your arms grow tired of embraces, and your legs grow tired of walking, of searching.
The spaces between your fingers have widened from holding so many others, and your fingers need rest.
It's funny how we learn. How we seemed so young, so innocent, so vulnerable just yesterday, a million chances we have yet to take and thousands of facts we have yet to discover.
With each day, we age, we learn, we survive. The earth has years of stories beneath its ever-changing surface, carved by mountains and rivers, tales that are waiting to be told.
But just because we age does not mean we are old, and just because we learn does not mean we are wise. We are never those qualities in our own eyes, but rather the eyes of others. You are not wise until you are told so, and we are not old until we compare with someone younger.
Age is not about a number, it's about the time you have had to learn. Wisdom is not about the standards of intelligence, it is about the experiences you have had, what you get out of them, and what you choose to do with them.
Intelligence should not be categorized by numbers, but rather your potential to teach.