Last updated on 2023-04-11
49 years old. How many more trips around the star do I have in me? I hope for another 40, and that I stay healthy and keep my faculties.
I tell stories of things that aren’t here anymore. I remember places and people long gone. I grow increasingly aware that my stories are historical fiction – blended memories. I am sometimes that last living witness to these stories.
It is not at all bad. Better than the alternative.
I know myself better. I am happy most of the time. I love many people and they love me back. I still have my parents, though I fear the day is approaching that they will be gone.
Here is what I know: Life is beautiful. It is bittersweet. As I get older, the yin and yang of it gets clearer. I am more aware of its impermanence. I too will die. This knowledge makes me want to go more places and do more things. I want to spend more time outside, away from the things of civilization.
I have no wisdom to impart. I am just feeling extremely grateful for still being here, and simultaneously irritated as fuck at what we, as a species, are doing to the planet, to each other and to ourselves. I will carry on now.