Young smokers (if there is even such a thing anymore) are like, “Well, I don’t have wrinkles.” Of course you don’t, you little idiot. You’re 22 years old. Get back to me when you’re 37 and your mouth looks like the Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge fucked your shit up for good. The next thing you know you’re online at Ulta and GNC willing to pay upwards of $300 a month so that your lipstick won’t settle in to the creases you made for yourself cause you were so fucking cool at 19.
Ultimately, you know that you’re fighting a losing battle. Our bodies want to die more and more every second past the age of 27. They want to lay down and die. I don’t blame them. Part of me does too but the grit keeps me going and, just like Hunter S. Thompson and his attorney, Dr. Gonzo, I am chock full of that.
Imagine living with the constant torment of realizing, too late, that you never really appreciated your firm tits enough or your smooth forehead or tight little butt. You should have been sluttier. Why were you such a prude? Now the only kind of whore you can be is the saddest kind of whore: the old whore. So it’s best not to even go there. Just stay married. Stay working. Keep your pants on. Pop yourself into cruise and just maintain as best you can until your inevitable demise. Lol!
This is why I support the matrix and/or becoming a cyborg. I don’t care which one. Just pick one. I wanna live forever, baby! Capture my essence on flash drive or whatever and upload me into eternal life. My avatar is bound to withstand the aging process far better than I ever could.
I hate the feeling that I am becoming so irrelevant. No one wants to talk about it. Commercials are no longer for me. Pop singers are way too young for me to date and sometimes I just don’t know what the hell anyone is talking about. I like some of it. I support all the “sleigh queen” and “yaass” nonsense everyone is saying now. However, I deeply hate the expressions “butt-hurt” and “jelly” as in, “you’re just jelly.” I’m 100% not though. I don’t want your youth. I want my youth back. People’s youth today is so obnoxious.
That song “Blurry Face”was the death knell for me. I don’t even know if that’s the name of the song and I’m not going to look it up. You know what song I’m talking about. I heard that song and there was just something about it that made know that I am out of the loop now. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I mean it sounds like the kind of ridiculous song that I would have enjoyed when I was younger but when I heard that song my first thought was, “What are kids into these days?” And that’s how I knew I was old.
Turns out I’d actually been old for several years, prior to.
I’m kidding I’m not that old. Although I guess it is a matter of perception. I’m not old. You’re old. You’re the one that’s crying. Don’t look at me!