I have always been scared, yes, I can use the word scared, of getting old. Motor skills depleted, hearing loss, tons of medication needed to be taken. Not to mention the regret felt of no longer being able to do the things I wished I would have done years and years ago. You know, like now.
But the sight of seeing an old man or woman walking slowly through the isles of the grocery store, their cart barely filled with soft, somewhat edible foods. The glazed over look most likely due to cataracts instead of what I see as confusion clearly printed on their faces. I stare at these people as they hobble down the sidewalk trying to avoid pebbles along the way. My heart breaks as I see them just trying to go through life, but without the steam of a 25 year old, they no longer argue over the overpriced toilet paper and just let it slide. They count out their change at the register because every penny is a penny and not just a piece of copper that fills the bottom of your purse or gets stuck in the washing machine.
It breaks my heart-what little piece of black coal there is left of it, but it does break. It is the natural way of things, to get old and eventually die, this I know. The hard part is that when I see these people, not only does my heart go out to them, but I fear for what my life would be like when I reach that inevitable age. Right now at the ripe age of 28, I have been getting into good shape and becoming really healthy. Will this last and prolong my life so I can sustain a happier way of living in the years to come? I still dread the big 3-0. Life as I know it seems to end at that age. No more fun, going to bars just seems like a weird tactic to be young again. I read a Dear Abby about a 25 year old who still hung on to all her childhood favorites (toys, and television shows) but felt guilty about it because she knows she needs to grow up. Abby said it was fear of the unknown and the responsibility of becoming an adult that makes her regress. It's not responsibility for me, it's more of the fear of not being able to go out and have fun. Just throw caution to the wind and let my hair down.
Speaking of which, this weekend I would like to do that, but it just seems like a chore anymore to find somewhere that you can be able to do just that. Maybe it's not getting old that scares me, maybe it is just life...period. End of story.
This sucks.
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2 comments:
I think it's the actually having to go out and do it that scares you. You can be 80 and still cut a rug in da club! It might be the knowledge that you may not actually want that in the first place that scares you. Like your life is over before it really even began. You may feel like you are being held back by regret for not pushing through your inhabitions more often. Let your hair down, truly. No age limit is required for that. 30 is one more than 29 and one less than 31. Means nothing unless you let it. Girl!
Where you be at?!!!!!!!! Girl.
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