I don’t want to live ’til I am 90

Perhaps a more dark first post, but needed regardless. It’s been a struggle for me to deal with the concepts of aging and death since our culture only glorifies youth. 

I am still very young, but the process of gradual decay, gradual aging boggles my mind. I don’t want to see myself slowly falling apart. I don’t want to wake up knowing who I used to be is gone. I don’t want to see my skin get lose, I don’t want to settle with a few feet of walking because, well, that’s all my body can do. I don’t want to surrender to the fact that death is slowly exhausting my body and it will take it away one day…that it will take my body and my mind.

By the time we realize what we want in life and finally enjoy it, it’s too late. We feel too old to do things, and an afternoon nap sounds a lot better than a day trip somewhere. Slowly, step by step, we are slowing down our lives until they become nothing but meaningless tasks of taking a box of morning pills or waiting for somebody to come visit.

Visiting my own Grandmother at a home makes me depressed every time. I see all those old unlucky bastards who are reaching 90, but don’t know who they are and have to have nurses to help them with their last few months or years of misery, who knows. You’re not you at that point and reaching that stage in life, put simply, sucks. All the (technological) advances in life, the progress around you….you’re missing it, because you don’t even know you are there.