Aging scares the hell out of me. More so than illness and more so than catastrophe. It’s the symptoms that get me. The slow shamble of a broken down body, the scattered thoughts as reality drifts further and further from your grasp. It’s the old man getting out of a car he’s parked in the fire lane because the handicap spot now seems miles away. It’s the lost look on the face of an elderly woman wandering the supermarket. It’s the paper skin of trembling hands, it’s knowing that your day has come and gone. And they say we should be so lucky to grow old. I’m not so sure of that.

Most of the time I keep that thought out of my head. Living as though I’ll be young forever. If I thought about it all the time then I don’t think I’d ever be able to force a smile or enjoy a day – but I do think there is something to contemplating it every so often to remind yourself that you are bound to mortality. And that time is working against you. I mean if you knew that you would perish exactly one year from this moment then I think you’d probably make that year one for the books. Maybe quit your job and travel the world. Examine what aspects of life make you truly happy and doggedly pursue them until your last breath. I suppose if you were bound to the responsibilities of providing for your family you might not change much – but for those who have no one relying upon us, I think it would make for a wild year.

Anyways…we’re all eventually fucked. One day we inherit the world and the next it’s slipped through our fingers. I guess that should be a great motivator, right? Reason to do what we want before our best time has expired. I don’t want to see the world through the lens of old age. That’s all.

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