IS GETTING OLD A REAL MILLENNIAL SCARE?

PS: this is not an ”Ok Boomer post.

It seems the older you get the more enticing they try to make this idea of ageing. By “they” I mean people who have finally accepted that age is a slope that goes up and refuses to climb down. This is not a problem to them because they are perfectly fine with that.  But they do not only stop at this, they also get all sensitive, demand for welfare packages, form “isms-words” to whine with when you call them old. Their biggest challenge yet is how to package “old” into fancy parcels that can be shoved into our mouths and forced down.

Not interested!                                

Truth is, people like me dread getting older, having wrinkles and old-people sicknesses. I say this with slight discomfort.

Also, people like me dread birthdays. They remind me of the awkwardness to be felt at being alienated from a group joke, from parties where people drink and pass out. They deprive me of the privilege of simply packing and disappearing, especially when I am not mentally unstable.

And because ageing is synonymous with death!

I believe it is harder to accept yourself this way, so cheers to older citizens who are genuinely in love with the thought of being old. Being young adults, we constantly battle with thoughts of being too pudgy, being too shapeless, looking unlike what we want, or just fat) to the battle of making sense. It is so hard being young millennials with so many issues related to appearance and common sense that I cannot even imagine us as old people. It would be a reality show people would pay millions to see. Especially when it is impossible to guess if our worries get old with us or are passed up for a newer set.

Another flick, from a whole milder angle, maybe ageing is resignation; finally feeling comfortable in your own skin because you know that tough wrinkles and veins are the toughest things to expel.  

In as much as old age is inevitable and is whatever, I wholeheartedly believe it is a period of decline and reflecting on (and wishing for a re-run of) the most vibrant moments of our lives, and I would not believe anything less. Not only this, the thought of depending wholly on another human for basic care and feeling like a relic makes me want to drag my eyeballs out.

So when I am 50, I think I would go numb and allow the journey descend slowly from there. So help me God.