Aging is beyond our control, but how we age is up to us. The 50s represent everything you were meant to be. It is utterly false and cruelly arbitrary to put all the play and learning into childhood, all the work into middle age, and all the regrets into old age.
What does a miserable person do when he wants to survive? And what does he do when he stops being pleasing and decides to live?
It starts in the quiet moments. Lies you tell yourself in the dark: I’m stuck. I’m alone. This is just how things are. It’s too late. These lies burrow into you, convincing you you’re trapped, a casualty of your own life.
It is not good for man to be alone. As in warfare and most games of strategy, isolation often precedes defeat and death.
Something wants to eat us all alive. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. Everything, everything, everything all at once. We’re out in the void, past where we could’ve turned around. Just a raw nerve satisfying. Correction is needed, but hard to see from this perspective.
