My life is a constant battle.
I live in a paradox of hope and hopelessness.
My mind tells me that I'm young but my bones resist. Its thoughts constantly singing to a deaf choir.
I'm getting old.
The reality is, we are all getting old but eventually it catches up with us.
Tag. You're it.
The body and the mind are made for each other.
The mind pushes and the body adapts.
But there comes a day when the mind wakes up and says, "Hey kiddo! Let's hold hands and skip to the corner store and get some Big League Chew." and the body says, "Dude. I'm not gonna make it. I'll only slow you down. Go on without me."
Then the mind fears losing its best friend and confidant. It starts to get angry and eventually resentment builds.
It is only then that the mind and the body begin to turn on each other. Talking behind each other's backs. Spreading rumors. Telling lies.
Taunting each other...
I'm in a place right now where my mind and my body hate each other.
My body is the gimp friend my mind has to lug around during the zombie apocalypse.
This morning I meandered into the shower. Exhausted from nothing.
My mind starts to whisper...
"Hey body. Whatever you do, make sure when we get out of the shower we put on our underwear as soon as possible just in case we have a heart attack. We don't want the EMS guys to laugh at us."
I stand in front of the mirror to brush my teeth.
My mind feels compelled...
"Why don't we turn off the lights. We look like a fat otter."
I sit on the toilet.
I poke at my stomach like a kid pokes at a dead animal with a stick.
My mind can't help itself...
"What the hell is that? It looks like the Pillsbury dough boy collided with a truck full of hair."
I hate you.
Sometimes when I walk to my car at night I catch a glimpse of my shadow.
What now you son of a bitch?
"I think a giant potato is following us."
The kids aren't home. My wife and I are finally alone. We have an opportunity to be intimate.
Don't ruin it for us.
"You should apologize to her now before you put her through this torment."
I abhor you.
Hopefully this will pass. Feelings are not facts.
I try to tell myself that I'm young at heart but I fear my heart might be a cynical douchebag.