Tonight it comes to me, understanding the frustrations I have felt truly FEELING “old”. The best comparison I can make in a fantastical or even supernatural way.
“I” am a captive in this body. The “I” is the MIND and present VOICE I am inside writing this.
It is best described as perhaps being in the body of a dead person or one of the walking dead at times. YES I can walk, move do all the things one of the living can do but I do it… SLOWER!
I FEEL so many emotions but I feel them more SANELY than ever before when I was young.
I DREAM of running but take joy and feel frustration in walking and walking fast remembering how I used-to run and GLIDE running on air above the ground.
I see women and I feel pangs of MUTED desire mixed deeply with melancholia. I am no longer a desirable man full of health and vitality. I freely admit it has been a long time since I had a nice hard erection and wish at times to mourn the dead between my legs when I desire and know like a walking dead man THAT will not rise and give pleasure to a woman.
Unknown to only the deepest and most perceptive of LIFE in a human, the true pleasure I CAN GIVE is in my breast and MIND. I have magical seeming powers I have had to compensate the lack of virility with a VIRILITY OF THE SOUL. I and other “OLD” people adapt and evolve with this strange slowing at times sickening decaying body to see more beauty in life and others and feel less hate as we that have Evolved try to offer the world more peace. Those that grow old and do not are truly the walking dead amongst us.
Knowing I have this genetic disease we ALL have (limited life spans through evolution and DNA) I know the symptoms of it and try not to imagine them. Oh do I have Dementia because I forget things? (No, at this age so much is just bullshit not worth bothering to remember!). I know that I will lose muscle and bone mass. I knew my skin would change and there is at times a cackling horror as I look at my skin and think, “OH SHIT! I AM GETTING THAT CREPE LOOKING OLD PERSON SKIN!” I look for liver spots and heave sighs of relief I do not have them. I go crap and hope my rectum does not fall into the bowl from straining. I try to cope with the hair loss by shaving it. I feel for women my age because THEY have to watch their boobs slowly fall! OH NO! SAGGY TITS!
As a kid I used-to SEE “old people” as the walking dead. What I still remember from being a kid is that… those “old” people, when they smiled, often had more life than so many my own age. I now realize it is because some of what we practice in life, we get good at. If you practice smiling it will SHINE FROM WITHIN NO MATTER YOUR AGE! If you practice glowering at the world you will become good at being an old nasty glowerer! We cannot run as we once did (for me a limping morning lope to the bathroom to not shit myself!) but we can dance because in life we have had great practice dancing. We do not have to MOVE to dance… the rhythms and emotions flow through our faces hearing the music the REAL music.
Speaking of music so many of us “OLD” people listen to the music of our youth. FAST music. Some of it rock that made us scream and throw ourselves into walls! If you ever see a splattered OLD person a big mess of a smear on a wall… you can understand some old idiot tried to move like they did when young. Or maybe you can find them in intensive care slowly dying of rock n roll 😉 We still dance and move inside to the rhythms of our youth – although unlike when we were young, the only reason we play it loud NOW is so we can hear it with our diminished hearing! Some of us have gone from a common hippy bobble head speaking of “cool” to a head craned yell of, “WHAT”? due to our hearing loss. Notice most people that are old also wear glasses for a good reason.
If I want to torture myself I will look at porn and feel some muted desire for those images then blushes of shame when I think, “oh shit! THAT person is at LEAST 42 years younger than me! WELL HELLOOOOOO GRANDPA!”
A JOY in being in what may seem a walking dead body is that I can SEE PEOPLE more clearly. I can appreciate them and view them with more COMPASSION AND EMPATHY. That goes with that “practice” I wrote of earlier. The ability to LOVE can be greater as we age. My father went the other way and became more bitter and hateful. I recall how LOVING my mother was as she was dying. She was dying and still radiating love to those around her. She was sick and sick with a sadness but continued to radiate love. It’s up to US. It is a CHOICE.
Writing this is a positive of aging. That my mind CAN continue to piece these sentences together and not cheating constantly with spell check.
I was, long ago a terrible student in school. NOW I am a constant student. I am an ocean net on the internet searching for knowledge and feeling that knowledge helps me grow like the vitamins I eat each day.
Last… if you ever find yourself on my lawn, don’t worry. I learned watching the old of my youth that yelling, “get off my lawn!” will ONLY make you want to take your dog for a stomp around and take a dump on it so you can think, “heh heh, TAKE THAT YOU GRUMPY OLD MAN ZOMBIE!”