getting there…
Man, I think I’m getting old. The signs are obvious… you know, my failing memories, my uncanny liking of hot baths, the momentum of how a hangover affects me the day after… just to name a few. Sheesh.
Just on the other day, I was catching up with some of my junior cousins at my grandfather’s birthday dinner. Can’t help to notice how much they’ve grown. It seems like it was only not long ago that I saw one of them pounding away on a Playstation console yelling obnoxiously, totally disregarding the welfare of others.
And now, he’s talking about himself having girlfriends… bragging about how rebellious he is at home … consuming alcohols … and now he has his own collection of scars from a motorcycle accident & still proud of it. Fuck. This is not good. The kid you’ve always thought he is ? Is now an adult shagging chicks of his own - and that means only one thing. You’re getting old.
I was trying not to get too overtly upset about it & put up a smile throughout the day to hide my misery. But I couldn’t. The thought had somehow ‘opened’ my eyes to see things in a different perspective. Now I realized that most of my buddies of my age have ceased their partying habit (so do I) and started to resort to hanging out at some slow places sipping beers and talking about getting married.
Man this is so revolting. What happened to my life that used to be full of fun and vigor ? Why is everybody starting to worry about money… and insurance … and family … and shits like that ? And since when do we have to consider the welfare of our own liver ? Now I even had to (unconsciously) deal with the pang of conscience when I fork out a few thousand bucks to buy something I like. I used to be easy on that kind of thought for something that I DON’T EVEN NEED. What the fuck is happening to me ?
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the dawn of my middle-ageism. I’m turning into the monster that I’ve always dreaded. “Oh damn, look at those flock of old bastards entering our pub… this place sux, let’s fucking bail”. I’m becoming one of those old bastards myself. It’s a matter of time before we start to worry about having kids, sending them to colleges, and bailing them out from jail for porking with the wrong chick. And before you even realize it, you’ll be discussing about which retirement home that has the best tasting denture solvents … or at some street selecting the best looking coffin to house your own corpse.
This feeling, is not a wee bit pleasant at all. I really don’t like it. I think I’m having an advanced version of middle age crisis. I think I’m gonna die soon. Leave me alone.