Plague of the Black Heart

On My Advancing Age.

It’s a milestone I never believed I’d reach.  I always thought that I’d be gone by now.  Not sure why I felt that way, but it was the same as when I turned 30.  Now, all I can think is “shit, I’ll never make it to 50.  That’s way too old for stuff, way to old to even be me.”

I’ve never had a reason to reach any milestone before my boys came along.  I’ve always wanted to burn brightly and fade away into oblivion.  Quick, painless, glorious.

Now, I need to see how they turn out.  Now, I need to fight for them so they get their chance to see the world the way I did.

Wait, not the way I did so much as the way I could have, but chose  not to.  Entirely my choice, it just wasn’t in me…never had that travel bug.  I’ve lived far too many lives inside my head.

Any place I could visit in this world would pale in comparison to the places reading has taken me.  How could any place in this world compare to my own embellishments of another person’s written word?  How could anything compare to the best and brightest inside my own head?

I’ll probably never know, and I guess that’s fine with me.

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