I’m a Senior Citizen.

So, I’m 83 years old. Well, I feel like it. Although I’m sure that’s inaccurate. Octogenarians are probably full of as much zest as their feeble dusty bodies can muster. Grateful for every moment and looking forward to the next. Brimming with wisdom and contentment given all that they’ve seen.

I am 26. Newly 26, and I make a hissing sound every time I have to say the new number. As if turning 26 makes you into a sewer-dwelling reptile. And no, not the cool pizza-eating kind.

I live in a comfy cave with Netflix and comforters, and wifi, and Panera Bread cookies. I busy myself making excuses so I can convince myself that it’s acceptable to only half live. I practice them; adding anecdotes and relatable humor so that whenever I have to explain the nothingness of yet another weekend passed, it’ll be believable. It’ll sound totally appropriate to spend a weekend “resting up”. RESTING UP FOR WHAT!? The gym just a few hundred feet from my bed? My tiring eternal internal conflict? The absolutely draining Nextflix binge I just subjected my eyeballs to!?

TIRED FROM WHAT!? Tired from all the unused potential. The backed up kinetic energy is leaking into my abdomen and making my spleen hurt.

I’m afraid I would have to be ON all the time. Echelon-climbing, eyebrow-fleeking, passion-pursuing on-pointness all the time. Ain’t nobody got time for that!  In fact, I do. Hours slide by me. Days brush past me. Months mechanically click away like slides in a viewfinder.

Google defines Laissez-faire like this:

For me it’s more like Lazy-fear {pronounced with the same French flourish}

Lazy-fear (noun)

The policy on not trying super hard at much of anything so that either way you can pretend to be unphased. Forcing yourself to be happy with what little you work for and what little you achieve. Eating yourself up inside. Fake neutrality.

Synonyms: Not doin $#!+, bullsh!++!&&, First world problems, procrastination etc.

New Mantra.

1. I’ll miss you both.
2. [laugh]

Issa Rae is #awkwardblackgirlgoals

Basically.

To fight  the dementia that comes from spending all your time alone and lacking human contact, I forced myself to go out. I young-people’d and had a blast! Then my car got towed. Nice.

“Go out,”, they said. “It’ll be fun.”, they said. I’ve never seen a consequence so quickly doled out. The wages of fun is death!

Doing fun things is fun, though. If geezers had the strength and will they’d jump me and steal my youth. I’ll try to use it more often. Try. I said try.

Ok. So I’m done, I think.

Roze Goes,

TF to sleep. I’m MF Tired. Like actually. Real sleep. I have a cold. Bye