And I mean to say it as one word, because that’s the way I feel it, that’s the way I felt it, fuckit, fuckit, fuckit!! I want to scream and shout and wail and cry, stamp my feet and pound my fists against the wall. I want to do something. I want there to be something I can do, but there is nothing. I am just like everyone else, I am just like every other living thing, every piece of living matter on this planet and beyond. I am ageing. I am dying. I am slipping faster and faster towards the end. Towards nothingness. Towards a void of emptiness that will forget you so quickly. I want to tell someone that it is fine, it is fair, it is as it should be, but just to be kinder, just to be a little more gentle on someone who is soaking up this life as much as they possibly can, just to know that actually that kind of makes it even worse, just to say slow down…slow down…can’t it all just slow down a bit? is there any way? Does anyone know a way?
Moments build into hours, hours rush by in days, days flood into weeks, and this timetable, this human calender propels me towards old age. It is not dying I fear, it is not ceasing to exist that bothers me; it is getting older, getting older faster! The years make their mark as they do on everything and everyone. They stamp and stain you. They try to pull you down, to sadden and dismay you. I fight back. I rage against it. But in the end that hurts more; the futility of it.
One day I will still be me, trapped and scratching beneath a crinkled skin. I will still be wailing and raging underneath it, enraged that it happened, furious that time took me. You might hear me screaming it, fuckit fuckit fuckit! I cannot deny myself the truth. I cannot pretend it is okay, I cannot pretend I do not mind. Because when I see that storm of youth below me, I want to soak it up, but I am on the outside, and it makes me want to cry. Cry out with the injustice, that the more you love and enjoy life, the faster it seems to go. The end days are upon us always. Mowing us down, so brutal, and the memory of yesterday just slays us, just hurts and it takes me out, it takes me down. Fuck it, I want to freeze time! I want to slow it down, make it fairer. I want missed chances and too lates to be wiped out and freed. I don’t want to be hurled screaming towards the light, I want to dance slowly towards it instead
All I can do is warn them. Warn the young. Even that is futile and pointless, because the young never believe they will get old until it has already happened. I will tell my children, I will coach them, steer them clear of my own mistakes, and try to impress my learning upon them. Stupid stuff. But it is always the stupid stuff that haunts you. Slaps you in the face, ha ha, you can’t go back! When they go to a gig I will tell them to make sure they have enough cash to buy a t-shirt, to buy a memory they can touch and hold and smell. I’ll tell them, when you’ve moved on, keep it anyway. Put it somewhere safe, and by all means forget about it, but know that one day it will be important to you again. Roll up your band posters and store them carefully. They might be vital again one day, you never know. Let life be in you. Let it surge through you and don’t have any regrets, and don’t slow down until you have to, and see everything, and everyone, and know them, and know you, and breathe it all in.
And in the meantime, while the days scramble on, fuckit, I’ll do whatever I can to fight back.