365

jan.21.22

I'm twenty four, but my body feels ancient. It aches and seizes up after hours of continuous use. It requires rest, but too long of unmoving feels like rust build-up, joints creaking to get moving again. Blurred vision makes stiff movements terrifying, and balance is something that doesn't seem to exist in that moment.

My body is elderly at twenty four, and my mind is soon to follow. I still have the wonder and imagination of a child, but all people revert back to a second childhood after they age, right? I don't know which childhood stage my brain is even in, or even if it left one to go to the other. It just exists in its humor and ideas, wild thoughts and happy-go-lucky way of life. It doesn't know much, but what it does know is genuine and wholehearted.

Everyday is another day to get older, as they say. Where that may be, I feel there's no use getting anxious about aging. There's no use wondering when the last day my machine of a body will stop its work, where no amount of maintenance can restore it to its former glory. Making the most to marvel and love every minute of life is what life should really be about. Not the things bothering life, making life unpleasant. But the wonderful things, instead. Sunrises and sunsets, blue skies over waving grassy fields, trees swaying in the wind. Spending time laughing as hard and as long as possible with loved ones. Those pleasant moments make life livable. Without those moments, life wouldn't be life at all.

So yes, as the way of the world does its best to deteriorate you, slow you down, do your best not to let it. Sure, walk a little slower: it'll give you more time to admire the flowers and willow bushes. All will be well. Life is still life, and still deserves to be appreciated and loved in all that it is.