When Did I Stop Being Me?

I Strain To Hear, But My Old Ears, For All Their Obscene Hugeness, Pick Up Nothing But Snippets.

Age Is A Terrible Thief. Just When You're Getting The Hang Of Life, It Knocks Your Legs Out From Under You And Stoops Your Back. It Makes You Ache And Muddies Your Head And Silently Spreads Cancer Throughout Your Spouse.

At This Moment, The Story In His Head Was Perfect. He Also Knew From Experience That It Would Degenerate The Second He Started Typing, Because Such Was The Nature Of Writing.

What Else Do I Have To Offer? Nothing Happens To Me Anymore. That’s The Reality Of Getting Old, And I Guess That’s Really The Crux Of The Matter. I’m Not Ready To Be Old Yet.

The More Distressing The Memory, The More Persistent It's Presence.