Old Age in the time of the Sluggish 20s

I am starting to have the self realization that my upcoming 35th birthday is the start of my early middle age. It doesn’t physically feel that way. If I were to pass away this morning I would be called, “only 35”. I’ve wasted my first half by pushing all the right people away. Making choices that slowed any growth. Treating my body like a food dumpster.

35. Girls don’t look at you and women are too smart for your bullshit. I had the ancient urge to talk to a woman this morning. Any woman. But it went away when I looked around my beat up smelly apartment and my out of shape barrel body. I’ve never been a closer with women to begin with, and with my current body dysmorphia it would be a lot more difficult. It’s hard to actually put yourself out there when you know how wrong it could possibly go.

35. I’ve got to get into the mindset that I should have had ten years ago. Start piling money away for older age. Come on 35+35=70. Who knows what the world is going to look like when I’m seventy. Who knows if I would even make it another 35 years. With this serious truth how can I go on with the rest of my life?

I’ve already treated the first half like I was dead. So how can I truly live my last half? Eating healthy and remembering pizza like an old childhood friend? Drinking Earl Grey Tea and remembering coffee like a high school sweetheart? Maybe Drinking water and remembering wine as I would a summer fling.

I always knew I needed to change the way i’ve been living if I ever wanted to see the ocean again, see the concrete jungles of the world. Maybe it is time. Shrug off the first half and start a new. New Names. New Places and New Experiences. I know as 35 trudges ever closer, I have to be better. More distinguished and have more God Damn self-respect.

I’m not making any promises. We’ll see.