Monday, 18 May 2015

morning commute

Do you know what I think about on the way to work?

I look at all the old people around me and this thought uncontrollably pops up in my mind, I hope I die before 30.

And then I feel guilty for having such thoughts - somewhere in the world, somebody is struggling to stay alive, and here I am indulging in first world problems.

But it's hard to contain the panic when I realise that one day my skin will sag, my freckles will become more pronounced, my hairline will recede, my teeth will loosen, my eyesight will deteriorate more, I will lose my hearing (maybe even my mind) and I will have crow's feet.

Sometimes my girlfriend texts me panicky messages re her fear of ageing and seriously I just want to cry but instead I promise her I will get around to reading French Women Don't Get Facelifts and share its wisdom with her.

Recently when I look in the mirror I have been noticing something about my skin - my eyelids are becoming so thin I can see my veins when I close my eyes. Almost had a nervous breakdown in the bathroom.

How do people accept age? All these old people I see everyday, don't they feel consumed with horror at how time has ravaged them?

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