March 15, 2013 by Wayne.
So I’m older and I don’t see things in black and white anymore, so that makes me more mature, I guess? Or is maturity, like, pretending to sleep in the bus so I don’t have to pass my seat on the bus to an old man but then I stare at him and first I see him as a concept – I see age and I apply it to myself and I feel horrified at the idea of wasting away and dying, then I see him as a person and I wonder about his dreams and aspirations, those twisted toys of youth and how he feels when he thinks back to them and if life is a series of choices, is he happy with the ones he took? Then he sees me staring and I pretend to sleep again because I kind of want this seat yo. So I guess, no, I’m not quite there yet.
No, with age, I’ve gravitated away from real fleshy people and towards fictional constructs instead