Growing Old
I'm not going to lie: the idea of growing old scares me. You're allowed to laugh and call me vain, and I wouldn't hold it against you if you did: a lot of people I used to know (and thankfully lost contact with) used to fear growing old because it meant losing their looks. If it means anything to you, I have no looks so I'm not too fussed about losing them - but I'm desperately worried about losing other things. It may not seem much like it, since I'm a saint in the worst sense of the word (there is nothing interesting in my life, and it's all my fault for being a boring, shit, shy, reticent, introverted piece of scum), but I seek the fire and the passion of life. I read a lot of books, so I'm probably looking in the wrong place, but still. I seek excitement, something to make life worth striving for, something to agitate me and stir me up. I don't like to be soothed, and I don't want to be at peace with the world until it gets sorted out. I wa...