When you realise you are old ….

I have had this creeping sensation in the last two months and that is that I am really old.  I am not getting old, I am old already.

I turn 40 this year (May actually) and it is all a bit alarming.

I do know the part that “you are only as young as you feel” and “age is just a number” but really that is bollocks.

I am turning 40 and 40 is what I deem as OLD.  The only people who think 40 is not old, are people who are 5o or 60,and really they have their own set of problems!

I have always felt like I was in my 20’s, care free, wrinkle free and just having a fun time, on the way up the hill that is life.

But some how, some way, some where, I pipped over the peak of the hill, and appear to be building up a good head of steam to the other side, where the hill pans out to flat earth — I think it’s called death.

I have realised I am the same distance away from being 60 as I am from being 20.  Which is quite sobering. Or in my case encourages me to not have too many sober moments to think about it.

The reality of my situation has become more apparent to me each day, and there is not much I can do about getting old.  I just feel it with

Soon people will be talking to me loudly and nodding and smiling to what ever non-sensicle thing I utter from my pursed lips, with spittle on the corners, and left over Marie biscuits on my hairy chin.

I was probably the person who remembers 1984 — not just because it is a title of a book, but because I can actually remember being there – CLEARLY.

I watch American Idol on television on occassion and everytime they introduce one of those children they have a birthday somewhere in 1990 … and then I want to kill them, so I have decided no longer to watch it as it depresses me, and the show irritates me.

There is no dignity in getting old. I feel physically sick at the realisation that I am old, and every day that moves forward will make me older, and more likely that my arse will get closer to my knees.

Fk it is all so very depressing, and I am struggling to think “happy unicorns shitting on fairy” thoughts.  I feel bleak.  I feel old.  I feel a bit desperate that this has crept up on me without me realising it.

What is worse than being 40?  I am not sure, but I am fairly sure it includes a bout of diahorrea and a case of athlete’s foot.

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