Fear of Living

“Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose” – Lyndon Johnson

If you ask me, I’ve lived long enough. No good can come from hanging around the upper limits of a human life span.

If you can’t squeeze a good experience into seventy years, you’ve most likely been too cautious. (It doesn’t make you a bad person.)

While I run in the dark each morning, without music or other distractions, the battle of good and evil rages between my ears. Unabated.

Life has been amazing so far. Everything I signed up for. I think. I laughed, I cried.

The only thing I can hope for until the doorbell rings, is more peace and less pain. I’m talking physical pain. The emotional variety I can handle.

Once you marry an adversary, you will cauterize your Cupid and can move on in solidarity. Living alone can be a dream state.

But living alone scares people. That’s because they expect their bodies to fall apart at some point and the pain and entrapment ensues. They will need a support system.

That’s what I want no of. I do not want to hang around this planet in a diminished capacity.

If I am able to live a life I want, solitary, sane and mobile, then that’s all a guy can ask for. But I have to put the work in. And work I will, with a smile on my face.

In the retirement community where I live, I am surrounded by pain, dependency, immobility and depression.

No thank you, there are sneakers for that.

 

 

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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