I was sowing today, like I always to. I pricked my finger and looked down at my hand. It never phased me how scared, cut, stained, and rough my hands were. I had callus on my finger tips from playing guitar, cuts from cutting, stains from dye and paint, and scars. I've never noticed it before. I ran outside to a near by park. I covered my hands with left over fabric I didn't even want to look at them. I was sitting there in tears when someone came up to me and asked me "Why are you crying? Did you fall down a rabbit hole and hurt yourself?" for a moment I was wondering why would someone ask that until I looked down at the dress I was wearing.