Hey! Wanna Feel Really Old?

H*ck fucking yes!

Hey, friend! How’s your day going? Good? Yeah? Great! How’d you wake up?

What time did you get up? Did your alarm wake you up? Did someone else? Did you hit snooze? Did you roll back over and try to sleep some more?

Were you tired? Like, really tired? Do you feel that tired a lot? Can you remember ever not feeling so tired? When was it?

Seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?

How many days have gone by with you slogging out of bed like this? How much caffeine do you have to mainline to get to work? How much to even function at work?

How often do you space out at work? How often do you gaze off into the middle-distance, forgetting that you’re even at work? How much of your day gets lost to these moments?

And what of your job? Wasn’t it just supposed to be temporary? A “stepping stone”? Weren’t you going to try and find “something better”? Was nobody else hiring? Was the security too much to let go of? Was the job hunt just too exhausting to tackle, with your busy schedule?

How many obligations, commitments, or opportunities have you lost to that thick, inescapable fatigue that clings to you and drains your lifeblood like a million imperceptible parasites?

Where did you dream you’d be by now, when you were young? How many plans have you set aside and forgotten? How many doors have shut, never to be open again? How many friendships have somehow just faded away like fog once hit by the morning sun?

How many tokens of your youth have grown old and decrepit? How many things did you once know, that have since faded into obscurity?

Where have the years gone?

Look at yourself. Study your face in the mirror. Furrow your brow. Or smile, if you can. How many creases appear that you never noticed before? Have they always been there? Or are they just ever-spreading like weeds now?

How many chances have you already missed? How many great plans did you lay, but then abandon and have now forgotten? How many have forgotten you? How much have you lost, even without knowing it?

Time is marching into your life like an invading horde and all you can do is watch as it pillages all that you know.

You are closer to death at this moment than you have ever been before.

Your days were always numbered. Now, so many of them have already gone, and to no great effect. In the grand scheme, not many are left. Habits have been set, it would be arduous and futile to try and change.

This is how you are.

This is how you will be. And not for much longer.

Nothing left but to wait for the cold and dark to reclaim you. You were always theirs.

This life is but a momentary escape.

Life is but a momentary, aberrant deformity of matter.

Matter is but a momentary, aberrant deformity of something much older, and greater, and more fundamental: the shrieking silence and hollow nothing from whence you sprung, and into which you are soon to return.

You haven’t much time. You never had time. Time has always had you.

This is what the kid from Blank Check (1995) looks like now: