Senescence

I take another breath and watch more of myself commit its own weary, chuckling self to an approaching sea of dust and seemingly endless darkness. And it doesn't bother me like I make pretend sometimes. There are no cobwebs or gray hairs yet. My hair is still quite dark brown and scattered red, hence my pen name. I don't predict any gray hairs yet though I did have one gray hair when I was about 19 or 20.

I was under some amount of stress then and I guess it did get to me as evidenced by that solitary gray hair. Of course, it wasn't entirely conspicuous like I seem to imply. It was hidden, for the most part within my hair, on the right about an inch away from the forehead or so. I had shorter hair then so it was somewhat easier to notice than it would be now with my mighty* lion's mane*. By easier, I mean I (or an interested party) wouldn't have to "hunt" for it. It is possible that with my frequent hair loss / shedding, said gray hair has fallen out.

Cobwebs, on the other hand... Nah, those aren't a big problem for me though I should do something about them.

At this point in time, I would say I'm very mixed up and misguided. All the time, every day. But once per year this is punctuated far more sharply than on any other day. Through well wishes, for which I am grateful and lukewarm words which seem to get less and less genuine, or maybe something is wrong with me, or the circumstances in which I find myself are poisoning me. I'm sure they mean well but something just doesn't ring true. Though I should admit that they do melt frost and tame poorly written metaphors involving ice, beasts, and ugly cracked deserts.

Though I cannot slow the flow of time, I am very grateful that the ride isn't as bump or as coarse as that poorly written metaphor of a desert. It would truly be misery if I were to go it totally, completely, absolutely, utterly alone.